


Where There Is A Flame

by slashwriter15



Category: Liberty's Kids
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Other, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:57:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 42,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4091320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashwriter15/pseuds/slashwriter15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benedict Arnold has shown his true colors and joined forces with Britain, though he has never forgotten the secrets he learned while working under George Washington. Blaming his lack of promotions and everything else that he was denied by Congress strictly on the Marquis de Lafayette, his plans for revenge take a far more sinister turn than George Washington could ever have imagined. Will eventually contain graphic rape and torture, so please keep that in mind while reading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1.

**Author's Note:**

> This story deviates from Liberty Kids; Benedict Arnold's betrayal happened before France officially took a side in the war between America and England. Additionally, I have given George and Martha two children that were not actually born to them; in real life, they were actually the children of Martha's older son, John, and raised by Martha and George when their father died. Martha's oldest daughter was actually named Martha, though her nickname was Patsy. Thus, she is Patsy in this story to make it less confusing by not having two Marthas.

**Title:** Where There Is A Flame

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the known Characters.

 **Warning:** This story has graphic sexual encounters and could be considered an Alternate Universe for the TV show Liberty Kids. I am using the pictures shown on Wikipedia for details such as eye color for the authentic historical figures like George Washington and Lafayette.

 **Genre:** AU, Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

 **Pairings:** George/Martha, George/Lafayette, James/Sarah

 

**Chapter 1.**

 

Martha Washington was the first to realize what was happening, though she would by no means be the last. It was inevitable, being that she was George's wife and that she knew her husband better than anyone else. One only had to observe how the young Marquis de Lafeyette and her spouse regarded each other, whether or not the pair even realized it yet.

It was so obvious to her, when she saw how they smiled at each other, their long conversations over dinner, the way that **her** George touched Lafayette so affectionately without hesitation. There was a spark of something special there between the two men, something that she knew very few would understand or approve of.

The marriage between Martha and George was as strong as ever, every bit as strong as it had been since the day that they spoke their vows. She knew for a fact that he had never cheated on her, though she had at first been a little unsettled when she had realized that he did, upon occasion, have leanings towards other men. Until the Marquis had arrived, though, she had never seen anyone appear to reciprocate the feelings that George did.

He was young, Martha knew, but Lafayette was wise beyond his years in some ways. Had she not seen the pure adoration he held for her husband, had she not known of his steadfast loyalty for him, it would have been easier for her to be able to hate him for what he was doing.

There were times when she wondered why they didn't actually kiss, as she observed them silently, but she knew when she thought on it. This was something that had the potential to destroy her marriage, along with Lafayette's. It was good that no one else had realized what was happening, yet at the same time, she knew it wouldn't stay like this for very long.

The depth of the passion between her husband and the young man he claimed was like a son to him was burning as it grew each day. If things stayed like this, it would rise to an inferno that could no longer be hidden from everyone else.

George was a good man, a wonderful husband, and he was a loving father to all their children, even those not of his blood. If she forced him to choose between their family and Lafayette, Martha knew he would choose their family. His sense of honor and loyalty would not allow him to do otherwise.

At the same time, however, Martha knew that the loss of Lafayette in his life would affect George terribly, perhaps forever. Though being the general of the American army had invigorated him, Lafayette had rekindled George's spirit, bringing her husband much needed joy and comfort during the war. She did not want to see him as defeated and as depressed he had been after Benedict Arnold's betrayal.

Martha had not been able to ease the sting of betrayal, the sadness that her husband had felt at what Benedict had done. Though George was quite fond of his officers, there were two that he had been especially close to. He had fought for Congress to recognize Benedict's valiant efforts during the war, to give him the that which he had wanted.

When it had not happened, George had done his best to ease the anger and humiliation that Benedict had felt by giving him the position he had requested. Martha knew this for certain, having heard her husband's rants once the depth of Benedict's betrayal had been realized. Her offers of comfort had little effect, though he had thanked her for them.

It was not until after Lafayette had arrived and had spoken with George that his pain receded. The young man had drawn her husband to his side without even trying, his genuine concern and caring for George showing clearly. Despite Lafayette's clear fatigue and the dust upon his clothing, he had not left George alone to face his pain. Since the moment of their first meeting, in fact, the Frenchman had always stood by his beloved General's side.

For that alone, Martha felt undying gratitude towards her unwitting rival. Lafayette had supported her husband as unconditionally as she herself did, never once hesitating in doing so. She knew of the attempts made to bribe him against George, though all had failed. The love and adoration that her husband felt for Lafayette was more than equaled by what the Marquis felt for George.

In spite of everything, Martha found herself in the unusual situation of being quite fond of the man that her husband was so taken with. She was bittersweet about it, wanting to hate him but unable to do so. How could she hate him for falling in love with George, whom she loved so much as well. It was not Lafayette's fault that George loved him in return.

Martha knew one thing above all else; she did not want to lose her husband.

If she forced him to end this situation, though, he would stay with her. She was intelligent enough to realize, however, that her husband would eventually resent her for it. There was only one way that this could work, at least for while Lafayette was here in the United States. Whatever the Marquis' wife would think, she did not know. The war here had gone on for so long that she didn't see it ending anytime soon.

Therefore, Lafayette would be here indefinitely.

If something wasn't done soon, though, others would come to the same realization that she had. The only way that this would work, though, was for it all to remain a secret.

Outside of closed doors, everyone would know only of her relationship with George and the love that  **they** shared. Never could they allow anyone to know of what happened behind those same doors, where none but the three of them would know of what existed between George and Lafayette.

It was the only way for them all to be happy.

Martha knew this, knew that it would be difficult and tricky to keep it hidden. She was willing to do this for her husband, however, because she loved him. As soon as possible, she would have to talk to her George.

 

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Where There Is A Flame

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the known Characters.

 **Warning:** This story has graphic sexual encounters and could be considered an Alternate Universe for the TV show Liberty Kids. I am using the pictures shown on Wikipedia for details such as eye color for the authentic historical figures like George Washington and Lafayette.

 **Genre:** AU, Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

 **Pairings:** George/Martha, George/Lafayette, James/Sarah

 

**Chapter 2.**

 

George Washington loved his wife for many reasons, the least not being how practical she was. Over the years, his true affection for her had kept him from ever acting on any of the feelings he had felt towards other men. Of course, that hadn't been the only reason he kept that side of himself hidden.

He knew that it would not be recieved well, to say the least, if any of the men in his army were to find out. Many would consider it to be blasphemy at the least, to say nothing of what the Continental Congress would do. He wasn't so foolish that he expected anyone to ever understand.

He had been surprised that Martha had deduced it so quickly, though the fact that she stood by him said a great deal about her courage and strength. It had helped that none of those that he did gravitate towards showed no signs of returning the feelings.

Of course, that had been before Lafayette had come sailing here so boldly from France. Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, the young, rich Marquis de Lafayette, had surprised George almost as much as his wife's acceptance of what could be referred to as his deviant nature.

George could still remember how... frustrated he had felt at hearing about the young Frenchman would be joining their fight for liberty. Without even knowing him, he had believed that the younger male was fighting strictly for glory, not truly caring about liberty or understanding the true meaning of freedom.

That first night that they had met, however, had quickly removed that belief from him.

The sincerity of Lafayette's desire to truly help the American cause and his passion for liberty and freedom had taken George aback. Despite the youth that he held, Lafayette held wisdom beyond his years. His spirit had moved George, his sweetness touching the older male's heart from the very beginning.

It was almost frightening, how quickly he had fallen for Lafayette. Before George knew it, he could scarcely bear to be away from him. The fact that Lafayette had been shot in the first battle had galled him. The even stronger fact that the teenager had been more concerned about the men than his own injury had endeared him to George even more.

He knew, of course, of how Lafayette had taken control of the retreat, calming the soldiers in the middle to prevent them from panicking as they fled from the British troops. Hearing in detail that Lafayette had told their fleeing army that the British couldn't hit the broadside of a barn instead of running himself after losing his horse had upset George greatly. It was rather surprising, considering his initial feelings toward the teenager.

Finding him alive had been a great comfort, though the injury had not made him happy either. He knew this was war, but seeing the pain in those beautiful gray eyes had hurt George, enough so that he called his personal surgeon to take care of Lafayette.

His personal feelings were a great contradiction for the commander, for while he knew that Lafayette was no child, he wished to keep him safe from harm always. But they were generals in a war, commanding their soldiers in battle against a most dangerous enemy that had proved itself to be relentless in their determination to end the rebellious uprising.

Lafayette was a very good general, able to get the men to accept him without any prompting from George himself and without having to force the soldiers to do so on the General's command. His natural born ability to lead would serve their cause greatly, having been proven during that fateful first battle where he had been shot as he moved around, calming the men who had panicked so that they all escaped. The only one actually injured had been Lafayette himself, thanks to his quick actions and the way he had rallied the soldiers into a calm retreat.

Unlike the Americans he fought with, though, Lafayette was not nearly so brawny or muscular, possessing a lean body that belied his youth. His mindset boasted of a courage rarely seen, though the naivety he held in certain matters showed clearly every now and then for George to see.

The fact that Lafayette spoke so rarely of his wife and daughters was a mystery to him, though George tended to forget about it at times. The teenager, of course, would have been married as soon as he was old enough. It was the custom, after all, no matter what nation you were born in.

The fact that Lafayette seemed to reciprocate what he was feeling, though, made George yearn for more, though he did not dare to act on it. There were so many times that he wanted to kiss Lafayette, to see if his lips were truly as soft as they appeared to be. The raw need he felt for the Frenchman he adored was matched only by the love he honestly felt for his wife.

He knew that she knew; she had spoken of it to him finally. George had not realized until then of just how strongly his feelings for Lafayette were. What he felt was not simple desire but something far stronger, something that he had come so close to revealing without meaning to.

Martha was correct in one thing. If something wasn't done soon, it would be a matter of time before someone less understanding and loyal than her would discover his secret. Her acceptance, love, and the fact that she was willing to share him made him love her even more.

Supporting Lafayette's weight easily, George softly chuckled as he saw how the younger man's eyes were partially closed. They had been up very late discussing strategy in an important upcoming battle, though perhaps it should not have gone on into the early morning.

After all, Lafayette had been in a battle just hours before his arrival here. Without thinking it through, George had immediately taken him into a meeting with his other officers. For hours they had spoken, sipping slowly on tea until, without warning, Lafayette's head had come down to rest upon his broad shoulder.

A little startled, George looked at his youngest general, his eyes softening when he saw that Lafayette was asleep, the dark circles beneath his closed eyes showing clearly. The other two officers were at least a good fifteen years older than the teenager, though George was pleased at the fact that they did not seem angry over the fact that Lafayette had slipped into sleep.

Not saying a word, lest it wake his dear Marquis, George offered a small smile to General Greene and General Morgan. They looked more amused than upset, smiling back at him as the younger male sighed, shifting slightly and causing more of his slight weight to lay against George.

“I think this is a good time to stop,” General Greene quietly said, knowing of how recently Lafayette had been in battle. No doubt it had fatigued him and with the hard ride from the battlefield to here in such a short time, it was no surprise to him to see that the much younger man had fallen asleep.

Nodding in agreement, General Morgan smiled slightly. “The battle will not be today or tomorrow,” he agreed softly, leaning in to inspect the sleeping teenager. Lafayette seemed to have no wounds, though he wanted to make certain for himself. After all, he was the youngest of them and he had fought the British so recently.

Unaware of the scrutiny he was under, the Marquis sighed softly, completely oblivious to the fact that he was resting partially against his beloved General Washington. His lips had parted as he slept, his cheek rubbing against the cotton fabric of George's shirt and the warmth from his broad muscles. It had been an exhausting battle, though his soldiers had achieved victory, and when Lafayette had been about to retire, he had recieved the letter instructing him to come here at once with those he commanded.

Without hestiation, Lafayette had done just that, ignoring his own fatigue as they rode swiftly to this fort. He knew his soldiers were equally as tired, yet they did not complain about the pace. Upon their arrival, he had immediately ordered them to go rest and eat while he went to see the General.

He had not expected to be taken immediately into a meeting, doing his best to remain awake. The tea helped him a little, as Lafayette listened to George and the two Generals, occasionally inserting his own opinions and ideas into the discussion. He did not know when he closed his eyes that he would fall asleep, having just wanted to rest for a moment.

George easily supported the teenager, seeing how Lafayette was looked over by Daniel, seeing the concern that he held. There were no injuries that he could see, just deep weariness that showed in those dark circles. Before he left again, the older man determined that his dear Marquis would be fully rested. It would not do for him to be injured in battle because he was exhausted.

Rising carefully from his chair, George slowly drew Lafayette up with him, not quite holding him in his arms as they stood on their feet. He did not wish for the men to see Lafayette like this and think he was weak. This was not an issue of him being frail; it was George's own fault, for not having realized just how tired Lafayette was.

Eager to see him again and having the perfect reason to bring Lafayette to his side, George had not considered the toll it would take on the teenager, ordering his return immediately. He had heard the cheers when the Marquis de Lafayette had arrived, so he knew they had been victorius in their battle.

“Lafayette?” George softly spoke, touching his cheek in an effort to gently wake him. He would carry the Frenchman to bed if need be, though he knew it would weaken him in the eyes of the soldiers. They would see Lafayette as being weaker than them, like a woman, should they see George carrying him to bed.

“Mmm?” Lafayette mumbled, blinking sleepily as he felt the soft touch to his face, the warm hand molding itself to his cheek so tenderly. He nearly fell asleep again, then realized that he was being held aloft by his General. “G-General...” he whispered, a pink hue settling on his cheeks that heightened the embarassment he felt. How could he have fallen asleep?

Seeing the blush, George gently smiled, absently brushing his fingers along the soft flesh of Lafayette's cheek. “It is not for you to be ashamed,” he assured the younger softly. “It is my own fault for not seeing the condition you arrived in, my dear. Let me help you into bed so that you will regain your strength...”

His heart pounding slightly as he felt the strong fingers touching his face, Lafayette swallowed hard, his tiredness warring with the shame he felt. In his fatigued mindset, he had heard his General's words but had not heeded them. “This is my fault,” he whispered, doing his best to stand on his own feet without help. Had George not had an arm around his waist, keeping him upright, he would have fallen when he took a step forward. “I did not tell you that I was so tired and the meeting...”

Shaking his head, George helped Lafayette with his steps, barely having to use any of his strength to keep the slighter male from falling as they moved together. Now that he was focused directly on the Marquis, he could hear how thick his accent had become, another sign of just how sleepy he was. The nineteen-year-old had never pronounced the 'th' sound in words such as them in all the time that George had known him, always replacing it with a 'z' sound so that instead of 'them', it sounded like 'zem'. “It's not your fault,” he softly insisted, relieved that Lafayette's tent was so close as they stepped together through the flaps, his free arm holding it open as he smiled down at the teenager.

Finding himself inside his tent without being entirely certain of how they had gotten there, Lafayette closed his eyes again, yawning deeply as he sat down upon his bed. He looked up, blinking up at the older man before him when he felt him undoing his outer jacket, the blue fabric stiff with dry blood and dirt. His heart was beating so fast, though he did not understand why as George leaned closer to him, setting the filthy jacket aside before he began working on his boots. “General?” he whispered, licking his pale pink lips slowly.

“Yes, Lafayette?” George questioned gently, pulling off the Marquis' boots and setting them on the floor, away from where they could be tripped over so easily. He was mesmorized for a few moments by the tongue trailing over the younger's lips, swallowing hard as he stared at him intently.

“Thank you for this,” Lafayette replied, his voice still soft and his eyes locking with George's deep blue eyes, staring back at him just as intensely as he exhaled slowly, stifling another yawn.

Warm, sweet breath trailed across George's lips when Lafayette breathed out, his own heart beating faster as he leaned in just a little more, focusing on the mouth that held his attention. “You're welcome,” he whispered, moving to press an affectionate kiss to the teenager's cheek, intending to withdraw after doing so.

Had Lafayette not turned his face when he did, the kiss would have been placed where George had intended it to be. As it was, a warm, firm pair of lips pressed against soft, equally warm lips that yielded to the gentle pressure as General Washington kissed the Marquis de Lafayette for the first time.  
  


To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Where There Is A Flame

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the known Characters.

 **Warning:** This story has graphic sexual encounters and could be considered an Alternate Universe for the TV show Liberty Kids. I am using the pictures shown on Wikipedia for details such as eye color for the authentic historical figures like George Washington and Lafayette. My French phrases were translated on a free site online; I apologize in advance if they are not correct.

 **Genre:** AU, Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

 **Pairings:** George/Martha, George/Lafayette, James/Sarah

 

**Chapter 3.**

 

Lafayette had never been kissed by another man before, having only shared such things with his wife. Despite the custom that he had learned at the French court, to kiss one's dear friends upon the cheek, he had never before experienced anything like this, nor had he ever imagined doing it, let alone having it done to **him**.

His heart was racing, beating wildly inside of his chest as he felt the hot, sweet press of George's lips upon his own, savoring the feeling for a few moments. It was so different, the firm lips of his beloved General in comparison to the gentle, pliable lips of his darling Marie.

Instinctively, Lafayette found himself returning the kiss, warmth stirring within him as he shivered just once, the hand upon his cheek moving to cup the back of his head. This was what he had wanted, he found himself realizing. He had wanted this and he had not even known it.

George, for his part, could not have pulled away even if he had wanted to. Lafayette had kissed him back, had not immediately pulled away from the accidental kiss and from George himself. That meant that the teenager wanted this as much as he did.

Unware of anything else right now, he pressed in closer to the younger, deepening the kiss slightly as he breathed in through his nose. His hands, seemingly having a mind of their own, had crept up to rest upon Lafayette's slim shoulders without him realizing.

Gasping just a little at the deeper kiss, Lafayette made a strangled sound as something wet and firm pressed between his lips, brushing against his own tongue as he trembled again. Need and warmth built higher within him, the Marquis feeling the pounding of his heart so clearly now as he once more returned the kiss.

For his part, George's heart was beating just as frantically, moving on pure instinct, finding himself pressing his larger body against Lafayette's smaller one. The feeling was delicious, his mouth pressing kisses over and over upon the sweet mouth before him.

“G-General...” Lafayette panted needfully, reclining back slowly upon the bed as he found himself pinned by George, who had followed him. He had not felt this stirring of need before, the depth of desire near choking him as he moaned. It felt so right, even though he was married and George was married.

The sound of Lafayette's moan was by far one of the most arousing things that George had ever heard, his hands moving across the teenager's chest, feeling his warm skin beneath the cotton of his shirt. His lips were now tasting the sweetness of Lafayette's throat as he fully sank upon him, desire throwing rational thought away. “Lafayette,” he whispered back huskily, returning to exploring the depths of his wonderful, hot mouth.

Unused to such a feeling, Lafayette's body arched into George's touch, all thoughts of his wife and family fading from his mind as those talented fingers lifted the hem of his shirt, touching every inch of his lean chest. His own hands held fast to his beloved General, keeping him near as he found himself hardening under his touch, his kisses.

Such a thing did not escape George's notice, though he saw something else as well as he drank in the sight below him. Lafayette was panting and trembling, his cheeks a deep, rosy shade as the Marquis lay there, his gray eyes wide with wonder, need, and a hint of confusion.

This was too much, too soon, George realized, though he was no less affected by this than Lafayette himself. Exhaling slowly, he gently slowed their kisses down, removing his hands from the tantalizingly soft skin beneath his shirt to cup the teenager's cheek again tenderly.

As their kisses lessened in passion, Lafayette gazed up at George, realizing just what they had been about to do, blushing brightly as his General slowly sat up, ending their kisses finally. He didn't know what to say or even think, though he found that he didn't have to, his heart slowly returning to a normal speed as he was gathered close, being held in the warm arms of the man he adored.

Gently rubbing the Marquis' back soothingly, George smiled at him, the confusion and slight embarrassment all too easy for him to see. “It's all right, Lafayette,” he softly said. With his much younger age, George doubted that the Frenchman had ever experienced anything like this before, being like this with another man. This was the first time that he himself had done this, to act upon the feelings he had suppressed and ignored.

He would have eagerly laid claim to the teenager had he not seen that flash of innocence in the confusion Lafayette had shown him. Martha had been right, he realized, recalling how quickly the passion had built between them from a single, accidental kiss. He had no regret, though, his smile growing as Lafayette hesitantly relaxed into his embrace.

“I have never done this before,” the Marquis whispered, his blush remaining as he looked into George's eyes, and it was true. He made love to his wife, yes, but this was something entirely new for him. “And... we are both married...” His voice trailed off as he bit his lower lip thoughtfully, feeling guilt at betraying his wife, yet he could not deny that he had enjoyed it very much.

“And we are both men,” George added gently, knowing that his dear Marquis had not forgotten such a fact. “As for our wives...” He smiled a little, enjoying the feel of having Lafayette in his arms, inhaling his musky scent. “Martha knows how I feel about you, Lafayette...”

Inhaling slowly, Lafayette stared at George, licking his lips slowly as he found himself swallowing hard again. “And how do you feel about me, Your Excellency?” he questioned softly, his accent sounding clearly as he spoke.

“You don't already know, my dear?” George gently pressed, cupping the younger's cheek, his blue eyes locking with Lafayette's gray ones as he gave him a soft, tender kiss.

Savoring the chaste kiss, the teenager sweetly returned it, emotion making his eyes glitter as he realized what George was saying without actually speaking the words. “I... I do,” he admitted quietly, giving him a surprisingly shy smile in return. He could scarcely believe that Martha Washington knew and had accepted the fact that her husband loved both her and **him**. He had met her a few times and he had seen the love between the married couple, the way that their eyes spoke to each other, just as he knew what his Marie was thinking just by looking at her.

He did not know if his own wife would be so accepting, though he had no way of finding it out. Asking her in a letter would be insulting to their marriage, being so impersonable. He honestly loved her, torn between what he felt for Marie and what he felt for George. But she was not here to consult on this, and sending a letter would be far too risky. She loved him and he knew that, but hearing that he loved another, the greatest man that he had ever met... She might not have the strength to accept it so easily as Martha Washington had. Additionally, if it were discovered that he had feelings for another man, it could be disastrous for him in France.

One thing he knew for certain, however, was that there was no going back. Their feelings had been shown clearly, the fact that they each felt the same for each other, married or not. Lafayette could not hide what he felt any longer, with it having come out into the open by that first, magnificant kiss.

One look at the General could tell him whether he was happy, angry, or sad, the same as how he could read his wife. George might wear a smile and be hurting inside, not wanting to bring down the morale of those he commanded by showing it. And because they were both men, Lafayette knew without discussing it that this was something that they could never let anyone know about.

George saw the emotion in the Marquis' eyes, the returned depth of love that the teenager felt for him that matched his own feelings. He knew Lafayette well enough to know that he was thinking of his own wife, of Martha, and fact that they could never share what they felt with anyone else. It was a bittersweet side of this love, but it was necessary.

“You still need to sleep,” he murmured softly, somewhat reluctantly, but knowing that it was also necessary and true. The kindling of passion might have temporarily roused Lafayette from the desperate need to sleep, but George knew it would overtake him again soon.

Lafayette nodded in agreement, his heart light as he yawned a little, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes gently. “Oui,” he confirmed in his native tongue of French, reluctant to leave the warm embrace but knowing that George could not stay. It would arouse too much suspicion among the men and they both knew it.

“Bonne nuit et les rêves plaisants, mon cher Marquis de Lafayette,” George whispered tenderly, never more glad than now that he had learned French during the first war he had fought in. He stole one last, sweet kiss before standing, gently drawing the blanket up over the younger male.

Touched by how George wished him good night and pleasant dreams in French, Lafayette settled into his bed more, love and adoration shining within his eyes. “Et à vous, mon chéri, général chéri,” he returned in an equally soft whisper, wishing the same for the older man. Sleep beckoned to him, and the last sight he saw was that of his dear General smiling at him, right before he fell into a deep sleep.

 

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4.

**Title:** Where There Is A Flame

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the known Characters.

 **Warning:** This story has graphic sexual encounters and could be considered an Alternate Universe for the TV show Liberty Kids. My French phrases are translated on a free site online; I apologize in advance if they are not correct.

 **Additional Notes** : I forgot to mention in the prior chapters that this story deviates from Liberty Kids; Benedict Arnold's betrayal occurs before France officially takes a side in the war between America and England. Additionally, I have given George and Martha two children that were not actually born to them. Martha's oldest daughter was actually named Martha, though her nickname was Patsy. Thus, she is Patsy in this story to make it less confusing by not having two Marthas.

 **Genre:** AU, Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

 **Pairings:** George/Martha, George/Lafayette, James/Sarah

 

**Chapter 4.**

 

Some time had passed since that eventful first kiss, though Lafayette had been forced to return to his camp with his regiment of soldiers the very next day. The town nearest to it had been attacked by British soldiers and without his men, it would have been lost.

George had regretted the neccesity of doing so, but there really had been no other choice. Only Lafayette's soldiers knew the area well enough to get there fast enough to make a difference and keep the town free of British control. He had ordered another group to follow behind, concerned because he had heard a rumor that Benedict Arnold was in the area.

That traitor still had not been captured and faced trial for his betrayal, something that angered and frustrated George very much. He knew that Benedict was angry, **very** angry, and he prayed that the man would be caught before he had a chance to get revenge on those he blamed for why he was slighted by Congress and deemed unfit for promotion. George honestly had no idea of what had moved them to **not** give Benedict what he wanted, but that had been a situation entirely out of his control. He had done the best he could to appease Benedict, but it clearly had not been enough. The man was a traitor to their cause and there was nothing more to do but take him prisoner and force him to face those he had betrayed, especially George himself.

For now, though, George was grateful that winter had finally arrived. It meant that the fighting would stop for now, no doubt to resume in spring. He could take time to see his children, his wife, and Lafayette. He had sent an invitation to the younger male to join both himself and his family at Fort Washington, to join in Christmas festivities.

In all honesty, he wasn't certain that Lafayette would come, knowing that Martha would be there. Before things between them went any further, George knew that Lafayette needed the reassurance that she was truly all right with this. Otherwise, he would continue to feel guilt over what had happened between them that night.

Their parting had been faster than he had liked and with it being in public, George had not been able to do little more than caution him to be careful, silently telling Lafayette with his eyes what he could not say with his lips.

_'I love you, be safe, and I'll miss you, my dear, dear Marquis...'_

The small nod that George had been given from Lafayette, along with his sweet smile told him that he had understood. The tiniest flick in the gray eyes that looked up at him showed him what the teenager held within his own heart, echoing the words he himself longed to say.

A quick, customary kiss to his cheek meant so much more to the General now as he looked at Lafayette, reluctantly stepping back so that the younger man could mount his horse and ride off like the wind. There was no time for a backward glance, George knew, so he moved off towards the other Generals who were waiting for him.

 

*********

 

Lafayette was tired, though this was a feeling he was quite used to by now. He was sitting within the privacy of his tent, reading the letter that had arrived from his beloved General, blushing a little despite himself. He had not looked forward to spending the holiday alone, yet he was so hesitant to intrude on George's time with his wife and children.

After all, he saw more of their father and husband than they did.

Additionally, Lafayette was genuinely concerned about Martha and if she was truly all right with what was happening between himself and **her** husband. He would not blame her if she hated him, to be honest. She had been so kind and welcoming to him, a stranger, the very first time they had met, and he had betrayed that by kissing her husband, nearly allowing George to take him into his bed.

The idea of being alone, though, was just as hard to bear.

His men were joining the armies of his fellow Generals, staying in a larger encampment near where General Washington and his family would be celebrating the holiday. Hopefully the temporary truce would last so that they, too, could have a merry Christmas. The British might decide tomorrow to resume the fighting, though most of the Americans hoped for peace through winter. They all needed a break from the war, if only for a few months, and to be home with their families.

Lafayette, though, was far from his homeland of France, separated from his wife and children by a vast ocean. He had sent letters to them, making sure to leave plenty of time for them to arrive before the holidays began, though it was not the same at all.

He loved George so much, aching to see him as much as he did his daughters and his wife. Would it be so wrong for him to go there? If he sensed that Martha was unhappy with his presence, he could always leave and go elsewhere.

When morning came, Lafayatte would ride out with his men, separating from them to meet up with the Washington family for Christmas. The lonely teenager only hoped that he wasn't making a mistake. He knew that George honestly wanted him there, but what of his wife?

 

*********

 

Martha Washington smiled at her husband, seeing how he was pacing as she came back from seeing to the preparations for dinner. It was early yet, she knew, but their children were quite hungry. They had been out in the snow, happily playing with their father for well over an hour.

All of them had quite rosy cheeks when they came back inside, gathering around the fireplace with merry laughter and warm smiles. Martha was thrilled to see them so happy, though she could see that George was still fretting, uncertain if Lafayette would join them or not.

Walking over to join him by the window, Martha kissed his cheek gently, smiling at him. “He'll come, my love,” she softly said, knowing it was true. She had been thrilled to have her husband back, her children delighted at seeing him again after so long. They had been able to relax and enjoy being a family once more, yet she had known that George wanted Lafayette here. “He loves you,” she whispered, her smile growing. She had heard all about the kiss that he had accidentally given the Marquis, finding it quite amusing to picture.

George smiled back, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Even if I did not love him and he did not love me in return, I would have invited him here,” he admitted, sincerity in his blue eyes. “No one should spend Christmas alone, Martha... He has no family here to celebrate with.”

“He has **our** family,” Martha gently corrected, lacing her fingers through her husband's larger hand tenderly. “It will be a joyous celebration for us all...” She would have continued, though she paused, seeing how hard the snow was beginning to fall. She hoped that Lafayette had not gotten lost, a little worry clouding her brown eyes.

George smiled, reasured by her words as he, too, peered through the glass to the snowy world outside. He stilled, seeing a shadowy figure moving through the snowflakes, catching his breath. He prayed inwardly that it was his beloved Marquis, not a British spy sent to ruin their Christmas.

Blinking at how her husband stilled, Martha followed his gaze, her smile increasing when she saw the familiar blue uniform of an American General. “I told you he would come,” she informed him, very happy for George. She waited patiently, watching as he walked over to the door.

Turning her gaze just enough to check on their children as they continued to rest beside the fireplace, Martha was pleased that they were listening to a story being read by her oldest daughter, Patsy. John was pretending not to listen, though little Henry and Eleanor appeared to be hanging onto her every word.

George and Lafayette deserved a moment to be alone, she believed, and she intended to give it to them, up until she heard him exclaim, “What **happened** , Lafayatte?” Puzzled at this, she went to check on them as well, wondering what her husband was referring to. 

It was indeed Lafayette, Martha saw, though she was startled to see how dirty he looked, his cheeks noticeably thin as the Marquis held onto his horse's reins. He was blushing, she saw, stifling a soft laugh at the look on George's face. He looked so worried and puzzled, clearly torn between fussing **at** Lafayatte for his current state, something that Martha would enjoy seeing, and fussing **over** Lafayette because something must have happened.

“It is nothing,” Lafayette protested, not seeing George's wife standing there and watching them speaking with such clear amusement. “My horse... he stumbled in the snow and came up lame. I **was** thrown off but I'm **fine** , General...”

“He **threw** you?” George breathed in horror, worry increasing within him as he focused on that more than the protest that his beloved Marquis wasfine. What if Lafayette had wound up with a broken leg? He would surely have perished, what with the snow that was falling even heavier now than it had been moments ago.

“I'm all right, save for the mud,” Lafayette assured his General, his blush increasing. “His leg is hurt and that is what took so long for me to get here... I had to walk the rest of the way... But I **am** fine...” He smiled somewhat sheepishly, standing still as a man came from the barn at the side of the house, to no doubt lead his injured stallion inside. 

Wrapping his arm around Lafayette's shoulder, George ushered him into their temporary home, still worried but incredibly happy to see the young Marquis. He saw Martha standing there, seeing concern on her face as she came over to them. 

About to speak, Lafayette froze when he saw Martha, guilt and even a little shame showing in his gray eyes as she approached, wondering what she would do. This, for him, was the moment of truth. Was she truly happy to see him?

Seeing the emotion in his eyes, the guilt that the teenager could not hide, Martha stood still for a moment, taking in the sight of her larger, much more muscular husband beside the leaner male. How different they were in appearance, she mused, until she realized that Lafayette's clothing was completely soaked through, the mud certainly not helping things.

“Don't just **stand** there, George,” Martha scolded her husband immediately, reaching to peel the wet jacket from the shivering teenager. The state he was in, Lafayette could easily take sick, for pity's sake. “Get him to the fireplace so he can warm before he catches cold...”

She saw the tentative smile, the fear fading from Lafayette's eyes at her caring, concerned response. Returning the smile, Martha leaned in, kissing his cheek gently. “You are most welcome here, Lafayette...” she assured him, her words sincere as she reached up, gently tousling the younger male's hair, almost as if he were her own child. “Now go warm up, for it is near supper now...”

“Oui, Lady Washington,” Lafayette replied softly, his voice tremulous as he looked at the amazing, selfless woman before him. “And... thank you...” He could scarcely believe how she was fussing over him, when she had the right to see him as little more than an interloper. Tears pricked his eyes, as he looked at George, saying so much without even speaking a word.

  

To be continued


	5. Chapter 5.

**Title:** Where There Is A Flame

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the known Characters.

 **Warning:** This story has graphic sexual encounters and could be considered an Alternate Universe for the TV show Liberty Kids. My French phrases are translated on a free site online; I apologize in advance if they are not correct.

 **Genre:** AU, Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

 **Pairings:** George/Martha, George/Lafayette, James/Sarah

 

**Chapter 5.**

 

George laughed deeply, a genuine smile on his face as he watched Lafayette playing with his children, seeing the snowballs flying through the air. The nineteen-year-old had teamed up with Eleanor and little Henry against Patsy and John, and for the moment, George was not certain as to who was winning.

It made him happy to see how they smiled, played, and laughed, recalling how deeply he had missed them. He might not be Patsy and John's birth father, but he loved them as his own. It had not been easy to leave them alone for so long, though it was neccessary because of the war.

Looking up at the footsteps he heard, George saw Martha approaching from where he leaned against the frame of the door leading to the yard, smiling at her. “Good morning,” he greeted his wife, kissing her gently when she reached him.

Martha returned the kiss, returning the smile as she glanced outside as well, laughing as she saw her children tackle the Marquis and pin him down in the snow. “He looks so much better now,” she softly said, remembering how thin and tired Lafayette had been when he first arrived.

His gray eyes were sparkling again as he joyously laughed, scooping Henry up and dangling him gently, tickling the small boy who giggled happily. The dark circles were gone, thanks to the week that he had been here, allowing Lafayette to rest and recover from the war, physically as well as mentally.

“He needed this,” George replied softly, his blue eyes clouding slightly as he looked at Martha. “Lafayette may be one of my Generals, but he is still young...” He feared seeing the younger man lose this side of himself, seeing how happily and innocently Lafayette was playing with his children.

Martha understood, taking her husband's hand gently between her two smaller ones. “He chose to come here, darling,” she gently reminded him. “And if it was not for the war, you and he might never have met, George...” She laughed, seeing John tossing more snow over Henry and Lafayette, with the older teenager responding by directly catching him with a snowball on his forehead.

“I can't imagine my life without him,” George confessed, meeting her gaze squarely, “even more than I can imagine it without you...” He paused, looking back outside as he heard Lafayette calling for him to join them.

The young Frenchman was pinned beneath four giggling, grinning children, not minding at all as he looked at the pair in the doorway. “I am trapped, my General... I beg you, come assist me,” he called, laughing helplessly as they tickled him without mercy.

Grinning at her husband, Martha's eyes sparkled with mischief. “I suppose you had best go rescue him,” she told her husband with a little laugh, a softness in her smile that showed how deeply she felt for him. “I'll make certain that breakfast is ready...”

Chuckling himself, George smiled and nodded, moving outside to sweep their children off Lafayette so he could catch his breath. He was very, very happy at how much John, Patsy, Henry, and Eleanor liked Lafayette, especially since he was certain that the younger man had to be missing his daughters.

“Papa!” Henry called out loudly, held snugly in Patsy's arms as he smiled, giggling as his hair was tousled by his father once they were removed from his new playmate. His sister kissed his forehead, making him laugh again.

Eleanor laughed, smiling up at her father, her blue eyes the same shade as his as she sat back in the snow, resting against her older brother. John smiled, standing carefully with the little girl and supporting her gently. Her cheeks were red from cold, telling him that they should go inside. It was probably time to eat, anyway.

George reached down, helping Lafayette to his feet easily before he looked at his children, his lips twitching a little before he gave in to his smile. “Who won the snowball fight?” he questioned curiously, laughing a little as he brushed the snow off of Lafayette's blue jacket.

“I think it was a tie,” Lafayette replied, grinning back at George, looking up at him with a warm look in his gray eyes. “What do you think, John?”

John laughed himself, not honestly sure of who had won either. “We all won,” he agreed cheerfully, carrying Eleanor inside with a smile to find his mother. Patsy smiled and followed her brother inside, kissing her father on the cheek as she brought Henry with her. Her younger siblings both needed to wash and change before breakfast. Their mother could do that while they washed their own hands.

His arm wrapping around Lafayette's shoulder, George gently led him inside, smiling at seeing the joy upon his face. It was marvelous to see him so relaxed and happy, after months of fighting in the war. “Are you all right, Lafayette?” he asked softly, seeing how the teenager had paused in his steps.

“Your children are wonderful,” Lafayette whispered back, a few tears on his cheeks as he swallowed hard, blinking a little to keep the rest at bay. He started when George gently brushed them away. “Thank you so much for inviting me here, George... And I must thank Lady Washington as well, for making me feel so welcome.”

Impulsively kissing the Marquis' forehead, George tenderly cupped his cheek. It was safe enough, for no one aside from his family and Lafayette were here now, having been allowed leave to go see their families. “You are always welcome, my dear Marquis,” he breathed softly, giving him a tender kiss on the lips.

Kissing his General back gently, Lafayette pressed closer to the taller man, feeling the hand resting upon the small of his back. He embraced him in return, feeling the kiss being returned just once more. Closing his eyes for a moment, he smiled more, kissing George on the cheek as they stayed together for a moment, then continued on into the house to join the children and Martha for breakfast.

Watching from the window, Martha smiled, holding the hands of her youngest children as she went to meet them. “Breakfast is ready,” she called to them with a smile. Lafayette really was so young, she mused, seeing how he blushed when he realized that she must have seen them kissing. It was easy for her to see why her husband loved him.

Martha almost felt as though he were one of her children, feeling almost as protective of him as she was of her sons and daughters. She knew that someday soon, Lafayette would become George's lover, so she was a little bemused at her maternal feelings towards the teenager. His innocence reminded her of her children, his sweetness endearing to Martha. She was glad to see how well he looked now, certain that he had put on some weight since being here. Hopefully, good willing, they could be together like this again after the fighting resumed.

Banishing such a thought from her head, she smiled, leading her little ones to the table. It was a happy group that sat down to eat together breakfast, George seated between Martha and Lafayette, the children on either side. Laughter, smiles, and words filled the room as they ate, unware of the bitter plotting happening only a few hours away.

 

********

 

Benedict Arnold was more than a little frustrated, glaring out the window at the falling snow. He cursed the fact that the cold temperatures and frequent blizzards had stopped the war for now, his desire for revenge building each day. He would make all those who had ridiculed and humiliated him see just how wrong they had been to do so, when it was too late for them to atone for it.

None of this would have happened if that bloody Frenchman had never come here, bringing unexpected foreign aid to their cause.

The Marquis de Lafayette was a **teenager**! By what right had he become a Major General? He certainly had not proved himself in Benedict's eyes, and according to the British commanders, the Marquis had defied the King of France to come here. What could he possibly understand about liberty and freedom? Even though Benedict now supported England in this war, he felt that he himself understood them better than some little Frenchman ever could.

He **knew** about General Washington's feelings towards Lafayette. Perhaps the General should be more discreet, considering how frequently he touched the Frenchman, how Lafayette openly kissed George upon the cheek. It didn't make him sick, not exactly, and had he not been passed over time and again for what he deserved, he would have turned a blind eye to it.

Congress had heaped praise upon Lafayette repeatedly, just as General Washington himself had. No one in America seemed to care that he had won just as many battles as young General Lafayette had. Since they preferred to serve and praise a foreigner, it was only right that he go where he was appreciated. The Britain forces were pleased with him changing to their side, had given him the rank that he, by rights, should have been granted by Parliament.

Bitterness settled into Benedict, as his leg throbbed slightly from old injuries, his eyes lowering to look at it. He had been injured in battle, just as the Marquis had been, but never had General Washington sent his personal surgeon to tend to **him**. Clearly, George cared far more about Lafayette than he did someone he had called a friend long before the Frenchman had shown up.

Then again, what else **could** he expect when Lafayette had seduced George.

Benedict would never believe that George had been the one to initiate things with the younger man. After all, Lafayette was **French**. Such a thing might be natural over there, but neither America or England would condone even the suggestion of two men being together. There had never before been any sign of George having feelings for other men, so that only cemented Benedict's belief that it was Lafayette who was to blame.

Benedict had been trying for months to capture the Marquis, though he had failed so far. His spies had reported that Lafayette had joined the Washingtons for Christmas. He wondered for a moment if Martha Washington even knew what Lafayette had done, seducing her husband.

Once the war resumed, Benedict knew that Lafayette would be alone with his men and thus, he would be vulnerable. He would not have General Washington there to protect him. If the information his spies had gathered was true, Lafayette was to be sent to Pennsylvania, near Barren Hill, once the war resumed. If his army failed to capture him this time, Benedict doubted that he would get another chance anytime soon.

George Washington's affection for Lafayette was wildly known, even if the Confederate Army did not realize that it was not exactly fatherly feelings that the older man held for the Marquis. Of course, the fact that Lafayette was quite slender and looked barely strong enough to wield any weapon did not help, in Benedict's eyes. The teenager did not have the muscles or brawn that the Americans did, being so slight that it looked as though a breeze might push him over.

Of course, Benedict knew better than to underestimate him. Lafayette might look young, but he was certainly not a child. As such, when he **was** captured, there would be no reason to treat him as one. There was a great deal that Lafayette had cost him and he intended to make him pay for it.

When General Washington's little French pet lost that youthful idealism of liberty and freedom, when Benedict himself beat it out of him, **that** was when his pride would be satisfied.

To be continued


	6. Chapter 6.

**Title:** Where There Is A Flame

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the known Characters.

 **Warning:** This story has graphic sexual encounters and could be considered an Alternate Universe for the TV show Liberty Kids. My French phrases are translated on a free site online; I apologize in advance if they are not correct.

 **Genre:** AU, Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

 **Pairings:** George/Martha, George/Lafayette, James/Sarah

  
  


**Chapter 6** .

  
  


Time seemed to have flown by, for winter was finally ending after long months of bitter cold and heavy snow. Every day, the air seemed to grow warmer, melting the white blanket that covered the land. Soon flowers would begin to bud and grass would become green once more.

It was with this knowledge that the Conderate Army was gathering once more, the soldiers leaving their families behind once more to continue up the fight for independance from England. Most of the men were fighting with the same Major Generals that had been commanding them before the break for winter, so they headed back towards their forts and camps to await their generals.

George Washington wondered where the time had gone, knowing that he would have to leave tomorrow. Lafayette had departed the day before, haviing a farther ride than George himself. It was with a heavy heart that he had watched his young love go, not understanding what it was that was making him so uneasy.

He had faith in the Marquis and trusted in his skills, yet there was something nagging at him that he couldn't define just yet. Sighing once, George felt a hand upon his shoulder, turning to look at his wife silently.

“He misses you as much as you are missing him,” Martha softly said, kissing his cheek gently. She paused for a moment, seeing something more in his eyes that she didn't like. “What is it, George? I know Lafayette is taking his army to Bunker Hill, but I thought that area was safe for now?”

“I don't know, Martha, and that's what worries me,” George gravely replied, wishing it weren't true. He exhaled slowly, not wanting to worry her as much as he himself was. “Perhaps I'm simply remembering that something I read in one of my letters...”

Martha slowly nodded, following silently behind him as George went to the desk he was using, picking up the letters and scanning through them. She was leaving tomorrow, going with their children to wait for the next time that they would be able to be together again.

She was concerned herself for Lafayette, hoping that what he had gained during his time with them remained with him. Martha had mended and cleaned his uniform just as she had for George, knowing that the time would come too soon for them to be worn once more.

Christmas had been wonderful this year, bolstered by the sweet young man that she had been able to learn much more about. Martha had known he had children and seeing him with Eleanor and Henry, she knew he was a wonderful father. Lafayette had no problem with helping to take care of them, though he had not done so without her approval.

Martha had seen how he interacted with her children, when Lafayette had been playing in the snow with them. He had been kind and gentle, genuinely enjoying their company as much as he had George's. She had heard him describe their children as wonderful, and she knew he meant it sincerely. It must be very hard for Lafayette to have no word of his children, Martha mused. Perhaps she would write to his wife on his behalf. Even if the woman didn't approve of his having come here, Martha couldn't understand why she had sent nothing to the young Frenchman. Even a letter would be better than nothing.

Studying his letters, George set one down, then a second and third, frowning a bit. All three letters had mentioned Benedict Arnold and each letter came from a different camp relatively near to where both General Lee's men and Lafayette's current army resided. Despite the lack of outright fighting, George had made certain that his spies had kept tabs on the traitor.

Dismissing the idea that Benedict would be after Lafayette, being as the French teenager had nothing to do with the Continental Congress not giving him what he had wanted, George wondered if General Lee had done something to anger Benedict. He didn't believe so, but he would write a letter to warn him nonetheless.

“George?” Martha questioned softly, seeing that her husband seemed to have forgotten that she was even here. She blinked once, smiling as he reached to gently touch her cheek.

“Forgive me, my dear,” George replied tenderly, setting the letters down for the moment. “I think my concern comes from the fact that Benedict has been moving about during in the winter..”

Martha frowned at hearing this, her brow furrowing slightly. “I would have thought that his leg would be troubling him too much for him to be doing such a thing,” she murmured, meaning it with all her heart. She knew that Benedict Arnold's leg had not healed, at least not completely. His limp had not gone away before he had defected and she doubted that it had done so since then.

Agreeing with her, George reached out, gently embracing his wife, holding her close against him. “So would I,” he agreed truthfully, “though I believe Benedict is out for revenge against those he believes that wronged him, Martha.”

Her eyes closing for a moment, Martha clung fiercely to George, fearing what Benedict's desire for revenge would bring about. She feared for her husband and for Lafayette as well, knowing that they would would not be together for some time. Lafayette was going to Bunker Hill, while George would join the main army and begin forming new battle plans against the British forces.

Holding onto to her husband as if she could somehow protect him in the upcoming battles, Martha found herself torn. Having faith was important, but she couldn't help being concerned about those she loved and cared for being in danger. “Anger can lead a man to do some truly awful things, George...”

“That's what worries me the most,” George admitted, stroking her hair gently as he sought to soothe her fears, though they echoed his own. A man like Benedict was dangerous, especially when he was that angry.

  
  


********

 

Benjamin Franklin sat in his room in France, carefully cleaning his glasses as he looked out the window at the chirping birds. Spring would be upon them before they knew it, and the war would resume before they knew it.

He knew that there were many years left to this fight, for America to gain independence. It would cost many lives and a great deal of money, but he knew that one day, they would win. With winter over, he could now resume his efforts to coax France into fighting with them.

Hopefully, this would be the year that King Louis XVI would decide that signing a treaty with America against England was better than America signing a treaty with England against France. Of course, there was never any doubt in his mind that neither he nor any other Americans would ever sign a treaty with England unless it recognized their independance. However, Benjamin knew that he could play on France's fear of such an alliance to get King Louis to sign a treaty with them first.

  
  


********

  
  


James Hiller sighed softly, leaning against the printing press as he looked over at his friends, feeling rather restless. “Things have sure been quiet because of the winter,” he commented seriously, brushing a loose strand of blonde hair out of his blue eyes. “I wonder when the battles are going to start again...”

“I, for one, am glad that the fighting stopped,” Sarah countered, her long, red hair pulled back in a ponytail as she stopped writing her latest letter to her mother. “At least we didn't have to listen to canon fire through Christmas, James...”

Henri pouted, reclined in his chair as he looked between them, a glum look on his face. His French accent was quite clear, being no less strong than that of the Marquis de Lafayette. “I missed being able to go see Gilbert,” he muttered, scuffing his shoe on the floor. “I wonder what he did for Christmas, being so far away from France...”

James laughed, knowing how fond Henri was of the Marquis. “I heard he joined General Washington and his family,” he replied, smiling at the young boy. “At least he wasn't alone...”

“I want to see him again,” Henri fretted, rocking his chair back and forth upon the wooden floor. “It's been so long since I did...”

“Honestly, Henri,” Sarah chided, though her green eyes held kindness in them. “The Marquis is fighting for our freedom and liberty against England. It's not as though he can take leave any time he wants...” She thought for a moment, then looked to James. “Perhaps we can travel to General Washington, now that spring has come? I'm certain that we could get word of Lafayette from him...”

James grinned, pleased with Sarah's idea. He knew that in order to keep the Americans rallied to the cause of independance, they needed reminders of who and what they were fighting for. General Washington was sure to have brilliant strategies planned for the first few battles and it would inspire everyone to keep believing in freedom and liberty.

  
  


********

  
  


Lafayette was not even breathing hard, as he galloped his horse fiercely, his gray eyes focused straight ahead while he headed to meet his men. He knew that they were probably missing their families again, but the war would wait for no one to be ready.

The Britain officers had not made a move yet, so it was vital that they all be on the move before the fighting resumed. His army would be moving to Bunker Hill immediately, to fortify the position and allow the army currently there to head elsewhere.

His heart ached slightly, for he had not been ready to bid farewell to George and Martha, missing the children he had come to adore over his weeks there. But Lafayette knew his men would be hurting as well and he intended to remind them that their families were what they were fighting for, along with their independance and freedom.

As he rode, Lafayette remembered the tearful parting, the warm, heated kiss that George had given him. A slight blush appeared on his cheeks, as the teenager shifted slightly on his horse.

Lafayette had bidden the children farewell first, embracing them gently and bestowing gentle kisses upon Henry and Eleanor. He had promised to a tearful Patsy that he would take care of himself and John had made him swear that he would come play with them again. It had been a promise he had readily made, hoping that he would be able to keep it.

Saying goodbye to Martha had been difficult as well, for despite the strangeness of the situation, he had come to hold her in a very deep regard. The courageous, brave wife of General Washington fussed over him as much as she did her own children. Lafayette had been quite touched when she had taken his clothes and mended them as she did for George, knowing that it was much better than he himself could have done. Her kindness seemed to know no limits.

Martha had hugged him, smiling warmly at him as she checked him over and straightened everything that she deemed out of place, even his hat. “Take care of yourself, Lafayette,” she had instructed him gently but firmly, kissing his cheek as she combed his hair gently, smoothing the one tangle she saw out with her fingers.

“Thank you for everything, Lady Washington,” Lafayette had replied softly, returning the hug and kissing her cheek in return. He was surprised when she held him back, holding his arm for a moment.

“I worry for you,” Martha had sincerely told him, an earnest look in her eyes. “For George's sake, of course, but also for your own...” She had smiled, though he could see the concern.

Lafayette's gray eyes had widened slowly, before he nodded. “I will be careful,” he promised, meaning it with all his heart. “You have my word...” She had accepted the promise solemnly, smiling at him before she led the children away, allowing his farewell with her husband to be private.

Lafayette believed that she knew that he and George had only kissed and nothing more, despite how much time had passed since that first kiss. The reason for it was simply that they had not had much time to be alone together.

To be honest, Lafayette was a little nervous about doing more than kisses, even though he was certain that George would be gentle with him. The rosy flush upon his cheeks increased at the thought of doing more than kissing, yet a kiss between them easily seemed to grow into something much more.

The hot, passionate kiss that George had given him seemed to reach down all the way to Lafayette's toes, his mouth easily yielding to it as he had kissed the General he loved back with all of his heart. “I'll miss you so much,” Lafayette had whispered.

“As I will miss you,” George had intoned softly, holding onto him so tightly that Lafayette believed that he could feel his heartbeat. “I will see you soon, my dear Marquis...”

“I'll be waiting for you,” Lafayette had promised, reluctantly parting from his love. The sooner that he left, the better, yet it made this parting no easier for the young man. The knowledge that it was freedom and liberty that they fought for, something equally as important as the relationship between himself and George, spurred him to ride even faster. He wanted his army in place before another battle began, ready for whatever orders came from his beloved General Washington.

Lafayette had no way of knowing that he was being watched, that he had attracted unwanted attention on his ride to meet his men. The man who spotted him mounted his own horse, heading off in a different direction to inform Benedict Arnold.

 

To be continued


	7. Chapter 7.

**Title:** Where There Is A Flame

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the known Characters.

 **Warning:** This story has graphic sexual encounters and could be considered an Alternate Universe for the TV show Liberty Kids. My French phrases are translated on a free site online; I apologize in advance if they are not correct.

 **Genre:** AU, Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

 **Pairings:** George/Martha, George/Lafayette, James/Sarah

  


**Chapter 7.**

 

General Washington had returned to his camp, outlining new battle strategies against the German and England forces. The first battle had occurred, another victory for their side as General Green led his army valiantly, driving the British soldiers away easily.

Benedict Arnold had not been spotted again yet, though his spies had promised to send word immediately if the man was seen anywhere. General Lee had taken his warning with nary a word of response, so George hoped that he was not going to do anything foolish.

Lafayette and his men had arrived at Bunker Hill in record time, freeing up General Morgan to rally his soldiers to march against the German troops that were encroaching on the borders of Virginia. George's family had returned to the plantation there, but that wasn't the only reason he was countering the move.

George intended to keep his enemies on their toes, to be unable to predict what his next movement would be. Bunker Hill was important and Lafayette's men were rested enough to hold the fort for as long as necessary. If it had the bonus of keeping Lafayette out of direct battles for the time being, George certainly wouldn't protest it.

As he leaned over the map, George looked up as his name was called, smiling to see the young journalists once more. He had expected them sooner, to be honest, but he truly did appreciate the articles that they wrote. James and Sarah were good reporters, stirring the heart of the Americans with the stories that they wrote. He had been quite pleased that Sarah had become a patriot, supporting the Americans' war for independence against the country she had once called home.

“Good morning,” George greeted them with a smile, standing up straight. He stifled a laugh, seeing how little Henri was peering around, looking for something or someone in particular. He had a feeling of just whom the little boy was looking for in his camp.

Henri pouted, looking up at the much taller man that had spoken to them. “Good morning,” he glumly replied, unhappily dragging his feet on the ground, his dark hair bound back in his usual ponytail.

“Good morning, Your Excellency,” Sarah responded, smiling at the majestic figure before her. “We came to see what is happening...”

James laughed a little, his blue eyes flashing his amusement. “And to look for stories to write for the paper,” he added cheerfully. “Since winter is over, now is a good time to get facts for a new article...” He looked at Henri, his smile growing. “Of course, Henri is looked for someone, not something...”

George laughed himself, smiling at Henri kindly. “Lafayette is over at Bunker Hill,” he gently said. “He is staying there for a few weeks...” He knew how found the child was of the Marquis, though Lafayette had a job to do. If only it could be done without him being involved in battle, at least for a little while.

“I wanted to see him,” Henri whispered, his brown eyes lowering with disappointment. “I haven't seen him in a long time...” His pout increased, as he sat down on a nearby stump with a sigh, folding his arms.

Sarah placed a comforting hand on Henri's shoulder. “I'm sure you'll see him again soon,” she softly said, hoping to help. She knew how attached Henri was to Lafayette, though she had to admit that it had been quite a while since she had seen him either. “Perhaps we can go there after we get a report of what has happened during the winter?”

James looked at her in slight surprise, then wondered why he would even be surprised at her hasty offer. Henri had jumped to his feet, pleading earnestly for it to be done. “Before we do, we'd better let Moses know we're planning to go there,” he advised his friends seriously, knowing that he would worry. Looking at General Washington, he then questioned, “It won't be a problem if we go, will it, General Washington?”

Thinking for a moment, George shook his head in response. “There hasn't been any fighting at Bunker Hill since we reclaimed it,” he replied truthfully. “It should be safe enough for you to go there once you are finished here, young James...” Smiling at them, he glanced back at his map, tracing his finger along the river line.

James nodded, moving over to look as well, Sarah following to see what was being planned. “What is your current plan, General?” he questioned, pulling out his notebook and pencil to begin writing.

“For the present time, the army is holding at their current camps, save for Lafayette's men and those he replaced at Bunker Hill,” George told them, looking up again. “The winter made it impossible for more ships to arrive from either Germany or England, but now that spring has set in, I imagine more supplies and men will arrive soon. Once they do, the war will resume in earnest.” He paused for a moment, thinking on it. “Aside from Lafayette and those who came with him, little aid has arrived yet from France...”

“I'm certain that he's doing his best,” Sarah softly said, knowing that Benjamin Franklin would be doing nothing less. “He did get supplies sent, though, and along with some money...”

“But our army needs the French soldiers for reinforcement,” James told her seriously, biting his lower lip. “They are doing their best but...” His voice trailed off, as he looked at the leader of their Confederate Army.

“But without aid in the form of men who will fight with us, the war will last that much longer,” General Washington finished, a very serious look within his blue eyes as he looked at the children. “We don't have the relief that the British and German troops do at this time; the men that both countries can send to replace those who are injured or killed...”

 

*********

 

Lafayette was relaxing for the moment, though he hadn't completely let his guard down. Bunker Hill was quite silent, something that admittedly surprised him. The British had fought so hard for it, and even though they initially managed to take it by force, they had not yet tried to reclaim it after the American victory that had brought it back to General Washington's forces.

He wondered how George was doing, though he was certain he would have heard if all was not well. Martha had written to him from the Washington plantation, bringing him news of the children that he had grown so fond of. He had already written back to her, telling her of where he and the men he commanded had been stationed.

Once again, she had admonished him to take care of himself and eat properly, or else she'd come there to force him to do so. Lafayette laughed softly, recalling so fondly how she had fussed over him during the winter. She truly was treating him like one of her children, despite his relationship with George.

Lafayette had also sent a letter off to Henri in Philadelphia, telling the child that he hoped he had had a good Christmas. He had also sent a small gift for him, recalling how fond Henri was of food, especially sweets. Being with the Washingtons during the winter ceasefire had meant that he could not send a letter, lest the British army use it to find their location and attempt to assassinate the leader of the Confederate Army. There was little to do right now but keep a watchful eye out for any surprise attacks.

He didn't know that his fort was under surveillance, being watched closely by British soldiers hidden in the trees. For the moment, they had not moved closer, instead keeping an eye on where Lafayette and his men were deployed while they awaited the arrival of Benedict Arnold. Once he came, they would attack and take General Lafayette as their prisoner.

It was unfortunate that Benedict had been delayed, having nearly encountered a group of Confederate soldiers along the road he had been traveling. Now that he was so close to capturing Lafayette, he could not afford to be delayed by engaging in another battle so close to Bunker Hill. The Marquis would learn of his presence here if that happened and the plan to take the teenager by surprise would be ruined.

Benedict had reluctantly backtracked, going around the army he had found with a wide berth. He was nearly there, but it would take at least another day, possibly more. He held no doubt that he could defeat Lafayette in battle, a smug smile on his face as he rode through the shadow of the woods. Anticipation made his blue eyes gleam, knowing his revenge was almost at hand.

The fact that this would hurt George Washington as much as it hurt Lafayette pleased Benedict very much. His old friend didn't know that he knew about the affair happening between the vastly different pair. When he was finished, the mighty General Washington would no longer have the stomach to continue the war, of that Benedict was sure.

The British Generals had no issues with the revenge he was seeking upon the French teenager; indeed, they had encouraged what he had in mind. Surely it would convince any other French sympathizers to stay out of the war. He never imagined, however, that Lafayette was as beloved in France as he was in America, for many different reasons.

The most important reason, however, was a secret that the Marquis had kept dear to his heart here in America, something that only he alone knew. He had not even told his beloved General, fearing his response to learning the truth about himself. Not even the British officers knew what Lafayette was hiding, though it would turn the tide of the war against them, for what they allowed Benedict to do.

 

*********

 

Moses was cleaning up the print shop, musing on how quiet it was with Sarah, James, and Henri gone. They had left over a week ago to visit General Washington and see what he was planning to do to prepare for the war to resume.

Moses had heard of the first battle that had already happened, though there had been no causalities, at least not on the American side. He knew some British soldiers had died, though they remained as numerous as ever somehow.

Setting his broom aside, he sighed quietly, closing his eyes. He hoped that his friend and boss would succeed soon in getting French aid, for he feared that without it, this war was doomed. He knew that the American soldiers were fighting valiantly and doing their best, but Moses was realistic.

They couldn't win this without foreign aid.

If only they had a dozen Lafayettes, Moses fleetingly thought. The Marquis might be a bit young but he was more than capable of fighting. Lafayette was a natural born leader, according to the reports that Sarah and James had brought back. The fact that he was steadfastly loyal to General Washington had only endeared him more to the Americans who read of his many victories.

Picking up a piece of paper from the floor, Moses frowned when he saw Benedict Arnold's name written on it, crumpling it in his hands and tossing it into the fire where it belonged. It was an older article, praising the man for how bravely he had fought against the British soldiers.

It was a disgrace, however, that Benedict Arnold had turned against the ideals that he claimed to care about so much. It was an undeniable fact that Lafayette was more loyal to George that Benedict had ever been. That a teenager from an entirely different country could be more loyal than someone who had lived in America, who had ridden in battle beside the same men he now fought against; Moses could not believe it, even though he knew it was true.

He was quite pleased, though, that the children were going to see Lafayette. Moses had received their letter the day before, that they were heading to Bunker Hill. He knew the real reason they were going was so that Henri could see the Marquis again, but it was fine. After all, there had been no reports of any Germans or British soldiers near there.

  


To be continued


	8. Chapter 8.

**Title:** Where There Is A Flame

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the known Characters.

 **Warning:** This story has graphic sexual encounters and could be considered an Alternate Universe for the TV show Liberty Kids. My French phrases are translated on a free site online; I apologize in advance if they are not correct. As far as I know, Lafayette's family being involved in a coup against King Louis XVI is strictly a figment of my imagination, as is the description of how his family treated him. His living with his paternal grandmother after his father's death is fact, as is his mother and great grandfather taking him when he was around eleven.

 **Genre:** AU, Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

 **Pairings:** George/Martha, George/Lafayette, James/Sarah

  


**Chapter 8.**

 

Lafayette had been surprised to see Henri, Sarah, and James when they entered the camp, though it had been a welcome change from the silence of the past few days. He had rekindled his men's will to fight, speaking to each of them about their families and reminding them all that he, too, missed his own family that remained in France.

They fought for the liberty and freedom for everyone in America; for their wives, their children, and some of them even fought for their parents. His soldiers ranged in age, so it wasn't entirely unexpected that the younger ones still had parents. Of course, this reminded him that he did not have either still alive, even back in his homeland.

His own father had died long before Lafayette was old enough to remember him, killed in battle against the British, ironically. It was one reason why he held no fondness for that country, for he had no memory of the man who was his father because of them. Yes, his father had chosen to fight, but it was hard for a boy to grow up without a man to look up to and admire.

Lafayette had been by raised his father's mother, Mme de Chavaniac, for years afterwards, his own mother leaving him behind during that time. His grand-mère had been kind and wonderful to him, though the teenager did not understand until much later as to why she had taken him instead of his mother. Being separated from her had been one of the most difficult things that he had ever felt in all nineteen years of his life, but he was given no choice.

Wrenched from her loving arms against his will, Lafayette had found himself in Paris with the mother he no longer remembered and her grandfather, a strict, stern soul that had no sympathy for the eleven-year-old boy who missed his beloved grandmother. They had plans for Lafayette's future that he did not agree with, though he had once again had no say.

Now that he thought about it, Lafayette could not remember his mother having ever hugged him. She had professed to have missed and loved him, yet she had sent him away so soon after taking him from grand-mère, sending him off to school almost immediately to further her plans for him. Of course, both she and the man he had feared had died nearly two years later and he had been sent to yet another relative without anyone considering what he wanted.

It was ironic, but Martha Washington was far more motherly towards him than his own mother had been. She had accepted him, showing him the kindness and affection that only his grandmother had ever given him before now. The way that Martha fussed over him reminded him of what he had wished his own mother had been like, caring more about him than her own ambition.

At least here in America, Lafayette was free to do as he wished, not what others wanted him to do. More than most, he understood the desire for freedom and liberty all too well, having had little control over his own life, even after he was married. His father-in-law had once again made decisions for him, making him a pawn for his plans.

He knew that his beloved Marie's father had been the one to keep the soldiers from going to America, who had informed the King of France of what Lafayette had been doing. Despite his age, Lafayette had been accepted as a Major General, though Jean-Paul-François de Noailles had put an end to it by convincing King Louis XVI to forbid the French soldiers to go America's aid.

In the end, Lafayette had followed what his heart had prompted him to, only his wife understanding why he felt so strongly for liberty and freedom. The fact that America was fighting against England for it had only strengthened his determination to go and be of aid to their cause.

He was honestly surprised that no one had been sent from France to bring him back by force, though Lafayette considered it a blessing. He knew by now that they knew he was here, fighting the English alongside the American rebels. He knew that his king had not believed that the Americans could win, that few in France had changed their minds until they began winning their battles.

After thinking about it for some time, Lafayette had written a letter to King Louis XVI, hoping to explain his actions in part to the man he had loyally followed until he had run away from his home country. His actions had not been prompted out of disloyalty to the king, but out of the utmost loyalty to him. Now that he was safe in America, where no one knew of his secret, he had hinted to Louis about the plots against him, of the coup that was being led to place someone else upon the throne in the current king's place. Nearly all his relatives had wanted this, and even his own father in law.

If he had remained in France, there would have been a civil war over it eventually. For all that his king might not be perfect, Lafayette was still loyal to him. Lafayette's greatest desire had been to serve; in particular, to serve a man who shared his ideals about freedom and liberty. Louis and his court certainly did not and Lafayette knew it quite well.

Here in America, however, he served the greatest man he had ever known, the man that he had come to love so very much. This country felt far more like home to him than France, even though his wife and children remained there. Perhaps when the war was over, they would come here as well, to live in a country built upon freedom and liberty, where all men were equal? Lafayette believed that even the slaves in America would be free one day.

“Gilbert!” Henri cried, startling Lafayette out of his thoughts as he flung himself at the Marquis, wrapping his arms around him with a joyous smile. “I missed you so much...”

Lafayette smiled, kneeling before the boy and hugging him back, reaching a hand up to tousle his long, dark hair. It was nice to hear the familiar accent, for though he loved America with all his heart, he was quite aware that he sounded nothing like an American, not with his thick accent. “It is good to see you again, Henri,” he replied sincerely, raising his gaze to look at Sarah and James. “And the two of you as well...”

James smiled back, seeing how happy Henri was to be reunited with Lafayette. He was glad for him, laughing a little as the Marquis attempted to stand and could not because Henri had not let go of him yet. “We heard things were quiet around here? Is it true, Lafayette?” he questioned curiously.

“Oui, exactement ainsi,” Lafayette responded, not realizing he had spoken entirely in French instead of English. Seeing the lost looks upon both Sarah and James' faces, he blinked, confused himself as to why they were confused.

Henri giggled madly, grinning at Lafayette. “Vous leur avez juste parlé dans le français, Gilbert. Ils ne le comprennent pas comme vous et moi faisons parce qu'ils ne sont pas de la France!” he explained admist his laughter, telling the man he adored like a father that he had spoken to James and Sarah in French, a language that they could not understand as well as they did English.

Lafayette laughed himself, realizing his mistake before he smiled at the younger teens. “I am sorry,” he apologized softly. “I have been thinking of France today...”

Sarah's green eyes filled with sympathy, knowing what it was to miss one's homeland. “You must miss France as I miss England sometimes,” she softly said, her own accent making Lafayette smile more. At least he wasn't the only one who sounded different.

“I miss my wife and daughters the most,” Lafayette replied quietly, knowing that it was true. He missed them more than anything else about France, though he did miss some things about the country he had called home for almost all of his life.

“As I miss my mother,” Sarah murmured in a low voice, looking at James and Henri, feeling quite sorry for Lafayette. She had not meant to make him feel sad and lonely, which she felt on occasion without either of her parents around.

Lafayette nodded, not speaking for a moment as he cleared his throat, unwilling to burden the children with what he was feeling right now. After all, they certainly couldn't know about himself and George and he didn't want to think on France any longer at the moment. “How are things at the print shop?” he asked, hoping to find a different subject that they could speak of without concern.

“Boring,” James replied, his grin remaining as he looked at Lafayette, only to be elbowed sharply by Sarah.

“What James means to say is that it was quiet because of the lack of battles,” Sarah interjected, frowning at her friend and fellow journalist. “I welcomed the peace and quiet, myself...”

Henri tilted his head slightly, looking up at the Marquis. “I would have liked it more if you had been there, Gilbert,” he admitted softly. “I was worried that you would be spending Christmas all alone...”

Touched by Henri's concern, Lafayette tousled his hair, giving him a warm smile. “I was kindly invited by General Washington to join him and his family,” he explained gently, a soft look in his gray eyes. “Unfortunately, it meant that I could not write and tell you where I was, lest the letter be intercepted by our enemies, Henri.” He was rewarded with a sweet smile, easing his worry that he had hurt the boy's feelings.

Recalling what James had said, Lafayette mentally shook his head; such words of boredom reminded him that the blue-eyed reporter was still a boy. “I must agree with Sarah, about enjoying the peace and quiet. For many soldiers, it was the first time that they were able to go and see their families since enlistment,” he truthfully told them. “They needed it, to rest and remember what they are fighting for...”

“When do you think the real fighting will begin again, Lafayette?” Sarah was wondering this both for herself and for the newspaper, hoping they could have peace for just a little longer.

Lafayette was about to reply, though he looked up at the cries being echoed around the camp that the redcoats were coming, there was a large group of soldiers heading directly for their camp. “Sound the alarm,” he shouted above the din, standing immediately and looking at his men. “Ready your weapons and prepare to fight!”

His eyes went back to the children, seeing fear in Sarah, excitement in James, and a mixture of the two in Henri. “Hide yourselves,” Lafayette ordered immediately, not wanting them to be caught in the battle that was fast approaching. Already he could hear that the enemy was firing upon them and the Marquis shouted at his men to fire back when the British were in range.

James nodded, grabbing both Sarah and Henri by the arm and pulling them beneath the protective cover of the nearest tent as they hid inside of it. They couldn't see out so no one could see in from the outside. There were shouts and the loud noise from the weapons fire was frightening Henri, who clung to James in fear.

Lafayette raced towards his men, taking his gun up and vaulting the wall of the fort partially to look down. He was stunned to see so many British soldiers coming, his lips parting slightly in surprise before he immediately changed tactics. There had to be three hundred of them compared to his group of one hundred so this was not a battle they could win.

“Retreat calmly,” he ordered immediately, glancing at his men and radiating confidence and calm. “We must fall back into the woods and regroup...” He signaled his army to begin doing so, musket balls shooting through the air directly at them from the closest British soldier.

One of the soldiers that had been on the outer part of the wall ran up to his general, anger burning in his eyes. “They're under the command of that traitor, Benedict Arnold!” he exclaimed. “He's on his horse leading them up here!”

“Benedict Arnold will be dealt with later,” Lafayette replied, looking at the soldier seriously. “For right now, we must retreat!” he commanded again. The British were spilling into the fort, as the American soldiers heeded his order and fled in an orderly fashion.

Sarah froze when she heard who was leading the British forces against them in an attack, paling slightly before she narrowed her eyes. She had not had the chance to do so yet, so she intended to give Benedict Arnold a piece of her mind. Without thinking about it, she jerked free from James' hold and ran out of the tent, searching for the man that she had once admired so very much.

“Sarah, come back!” James shouted, afraid for her life but worried about going out there in the midst of the battle. He had heard Lafayette ordering his men to retreat, knowing that there must be too many British soldiers for them to win this battle.

  


********

 

George was studying his map again, planning his next move now that a new English ship had docked in Boston Harbor. The leader of the Confederate Army had no idea of what was happening at Bunker Hill, though he looked up when he heard a horse galloping up, frowning slightly.

Robert Townsend headed straight for General Washington, seeing him standing still as he spurred his horse on, dismounting before the other man and breathing hard. “Bunker Hill is under attack,” he gasped, his words coming slowly as he tried to regain his breath. “At least three hundred British soldiers are marching on it, General...”

  

To be continued


	9. Chapter 9.

**Title:** Where There Is A Flame

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the known Characters.

**Warning:** This story has graphic sexual encounters and could be considered an Alternate Universe for the TV show Liberty Kids. My French phrases are translated on a free site online; I apologize in advance if they are not correct. As far as I know, Lafayette's family being involved in a coup against King Louis XVI is strictly a figment of my imagination, as is the description of how his family treated him. His living with his paternal grandmother after his father's death is fact, as is his mother and great grandfather taking him when he was around eleven.

**Genre:** AU, Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

**Pairings:** George/Martha, George/Lafayette, James/Sarah

 

**Chapter 9.**

 

George Washington's feeling of dread increased, as he and his men raced towards Bunker Hill, the hooves of their horses pounding along the dirt road. They had been riding hard for over nearly two hours, the General praying that Lafayette was all right.

Hearing the number of soldiers that were attacking the fort, George knew that Lafayette would have ordered a retreat, knowing the teenager would not lead his men into a battle that would only cost them all their lives. The most likely place for Lafayette's soldiers to flee into would be the woods behind the hill, though George had his army approaching in the same direction that the British were attacking from.

He hoped to spur them into attacking his army, thus providing cover for Lafayette and his smaller group to get to a safe distance. George was growing worried, though, because despite the fact that they were nearly there, he still did not see any regulars milling about. When they reached the top of the current hill that they were galloping up, George reined his horse in, looking about to see what was happening.

Several Confederate soldiers were running in so many different directions, making the general frown. This was not something Lafayette would have allowed, digging his heels into his horse to get there as quickly as possible. British soldiers on foot quickly moved out of the way, wielding their muskets at the fleeing Americans.

“Cover the retreat,” George ordered his men, riding through the battle and looking about for Lafayette. There was no sign of him, fear clenching his heart as he spun his horse around, moving up Bunker Hill. He didn't hear any commands being given to Lafayette's army, indicting that for some reason, the teenager could not give orders.

At the top of the hill, Benedict Arnold recognized General Washington, sneering at him before he spat upon the ground. Of course he would come himself, hearing that Lafayette's fort was the one that had been attacked. Secured upon his horse with him was the Marquis de Lafayette, bound and gagged so he couldn't cry out and reveal his location.

Benedict would not take the chance that the younger man would escape, binding both his hand and feet when he gagged him. As a further precaution, he had slipped something akin to a noose about Lafayette's neck, warning him that if he struggled to hard and fell off, it would choke him to death.

Hearing a muffled sound from his smaller prisoner, Benedict looked at him, smirked slightly. As he suspected, Lafayette had realized that George was here and looking for him. Tightening his grip upon the rope tied around the Frenchman's neck, he jerked it sharply. “Don't get any ideas, Lafayette,” he purred into the teenager's ear. “George will find out soon enough and you have much to answer for before I'm done with you...”

Paling at Benedict's words, Lafayette's gray eyes widened in a delightful mixture of fear and confusion, his movements stilling as he swallowed hard. The rope had hurt as it dug into his throat, leaving a reddish line upon his pale skin. His wrists ached, tied behind his back so tightly.

Because his feet had been bound as well, Lafayette had been forced to sit sidesaddle, like a woman, though Benedict had a firm grip around his lean waist as another way to deter him from trying to escape. He could see how George was searching through the camp, occasionally charging at the British soldiers that got into his horse's path.

As if by a miracle, George looked up, hearing none other than Benedict Arnold further up the hill, astride his own horse. Narrowing his blue eyes, he moved towards the traitor, intending to confront him just as Sarah Philips had. Before he could reach him, however, Benedict seemed to realize that he was coming, looking in his direction before he turned and galloped off, flanked by dozens of redcoats.

Benedict laughed darkly, knowing that there was no way that George could have seen that he held Lafayette as prisoner. Not with how bad his eyes were, even though most did not realize it. George Washington had been quite careful to keep it a secret, though Benedict had learned this, just as he had known about the relationship between the general and the marquis.

George could see things up close far better than he could from a distance, and since Benedict did not hear him galloping after him, he knew that the man was still searching the camp to find the very teenager he held in his arms. The trees provided excellent coverage for them as the small group headed towards a distant fort that their army still held.

It was going to be a long journey, he knew, but Benedict knew that until they had put great distance between them and General Washington. Once George knew that he had taken Lafayette, there was no doubt that they would be pursued. For the moment, Benedict held the advantage and as soon as they rode for a few more miles, his army would split into different groups, making it impossible for George to know where Lafayette was being held prisoner. He had no intention of allowing him to know such important information until he was finished getting his revenge.

Sarah was sitting in the camp of Bunker Hill, crying into her hands inside the tent that she had been viciously shoved into, a large, red mark upon her face as she sobbed. She could hear that General Washington had arrived, that the Americans had turned the battle back against the British soldiers now. Still, she could not move, feeling such deep, immense pain.

She could hear the general shouting for Lafayette, fresh tears welling up in her green eyes as she slowly stood, hearing James calling for her as well. Her lower lip trembling heavily, the fifteen-year-old girl left the tent, unable to keep the tears that trickled down her cheeks.

“Sarah!” James ran over, relieved beyond words that she was all right. He and Henri had been very worried about her safety, after she had run out of the tent so fast that they could not stop her. He felt safe leaving the tent, though, now that reinforcements had arrived.

The battle had been anything but a battle, for he had repeatedly heard Lafayette yelling orders for his men to retreat. There had been muskets being fired, a few angry shouts and then silence had been all that James could hear. Until he'd heard General Washington shouting for Lafayette, he had not had the courage to leave the tent, afraid of being caught by a redcoat.

James stilled, however, impulsively taking her hands as he saw that she was crying. “Sarah? What's wrong?” he questioned, his concern returned as he looked her over, pausing when he saw her face. “What happened to you, Sarah?”

Sarah surprised herself and James, flinging herself into his arms and beginning to weep more, her face buried into the blonde teenager's chest as she cried. “Lafayette...” she blurted out, closing her eyes as she sobbed again. She knew it was entirely her fault; there was no one to blame for this but **her**.

“What about Lafayette?” James immediately questioned, his arms tightening around Sarah, extremely worried about the fact that she had not stopped crying yet, even though the battle was over.

George looked up, hearing Lafayette's name as he stood talking to more of Lafayette's men as he had been for what felt like hours. None of the soldiers had any idea of where the Marquis was, just that he had indeed given the order to retreat. They had not seen him after the British soldiers had invaded Bunker Hill in the attack, the soldiers having been focused on retreating.

Therefore, when George heard James asking about Lafayette, he focused in on that. He did not understand why Benedict had left so quickly, though his initial thought was that it was because he arrived with reinforcements so quickly.

Sarah sniffed hard, lifting her face to look at James tearfully, her lip still wobbling. “Lafayette...” she repeated softly, ashamed to admit the truth.

“What **happened** , Miss Philips?” General Washington asked unexpectedly, causing her to gasp as she turned her green eyes to him before lowering them shamefully.

“B-Benedict Arnold,” Sarah whispered, sniffing as she closed her bloodshot eyes, pain in her voice. “He took Lafayette as a prisoner...” The girl hesitated for a moment, hearing the sharp intake of the general's breath.

George paled himself, horrified by this news. He did not understand why she was crying so hard and had it not been so urgent, he might have been more patient. “ **How** did it happen?” he demanded, his blue eyes flashing with emotion.

Sarah's gaze remained lowered, as she felt James holding her close. “Because he took m-me as a prisoner first,” she admitted softly, a tear making its way down her face. “Benedict forced Lafayette to surrender to secure **my** freedom...”

She shivered, remembering how violent Benedict Arnold had been towards her. The man she had once thought of so fondly, that she had admired so much, had held no hesitation in taking her hostage. Sarah's fright had been genuine as he jerked her around by her arm, showing no guilt or remorse for having betrayed his former friends and countrymen to fight for England.

Lafayette, Sarah recollected, had come upon them as she had fought to free herself, and the slap Benedict had given her still stung her cheek. The Marquis had immediately demanded that Benedict release her immediately. 

********

“ _Miss Philips is not a soldier,” Lafayette had said, looking at Benedict Arnold in horror. “There is no honor in taking her prisoner, Benedict...” He knew the older male was a traitor to their cause of liberty and freedom, but taking a girl as his prisoner was unthinkable._

_Benedict's response had been to laugh at the younger General, his blue eyes cold as he inclined his head. “Are you willing to take her place then, Lafayette?” he had slyly replied, smirking at the teenager._

_Lafayette had opened his mouth in pure shock for a moment, looking at the smaller girl that was held firmly by Benedict before he looked at his former comrade. He could not believe that he would resort to using an innocent girl as a hostage._

“ _There's no telling of what would become of her as a prisoner of England,” Benedict had added, knowing that there was no way that Lafayette's precious honor would allow him to walk away with the **female** journalist as his prisoner. “After all, some of the men haven't seen a woman in quite some time. Miss Philips will be a most welcome addition to our camp...”_

_Sarah's face had grown hot, the implications of what Benedict was saying making tears burn her eyes. “Y-You wouldn't,” she had stammered, her own lips parted as she gaped at her former friend._

_Jerking the girl against him, Benedict had sneered at her, indifferent to her horror and shock. “You worry about such things, when you run about the countryside behaving exactly as though you are a **boy**?” He shook his head almost pityingly, though he meant every word. “You, Miss Philips, certainly do not **act** like a respectable lady. You are frequently out and about at **night** in the company of all men without a female chaperone, and yet you worry about your virtue?”_

_Sarah had felt as though her face was on fire, to hear him saying such things to her. She wanted to shout at him, to deny his accusations, yet they were all true and she could not call him a liar. Momentarily speechless, she trembled, feeling helpless against the censure he had thrown at her so coldly._

“ _Enough of this, Benedict,” Lafayette had interjected firmly, his face having gone pale as he looked directly at the brown-haired man. Honor dictated that Lafayette could not allow Benedict to take Sarah as his prisoner. “I will sacrifice my own liberty and freedom for hers...”_

_Smiling in satisfaction, Benedict had gestured for the men with him to take Lafayette prisoner. “As soon as you are bound and gagged, I will release her,” he informed the Marquis, triumph in his blue eyes. He spared a glance at Miss Philips, dragging her away as Lafayette allowed the English soldiers to do as Benedict had said._

_Lafayette had worried when he saw Benedict taking Sarah away, hoping that he would truly keep his word. After all, he had betrayed America for so little, so what guarantee was there that he would truly release the girl? The truth was, there was no such assurance, but what else could he have done?_

_When they were far enough away, Benedict had glared down at her, his eyes so cold and unfeeling as he leaned in close to Sarah's face. “Stay in this tent,” he ordered, “for if you do not, what I taunted Lafayette with **will** come true...” Without waiting for a response, he shoved the much slighter girl into the tent, certain that she had learned her lesson. It was a pity that she had not stayed loyal to England, he mused, but she was now a traitor and he would treat her as such._

********

Stunned into silence, George looked up the hill, at where Benedict had been standing when he had first seen him at this battle. Had he known that the man had taken prisoner one who held his heart, he would have gone directly after them when he had fled. Of course, now he knew **why** Benedict had left so abruptly.

Lafayette's army was still here, though their general was far away, in the hands of a traitor and the English army. Turning away from the children, George walked over to the center of the men, where General Morgan stood, calming them down. Unfortunately, what he had to tell them would spark more fear and outrage.

“Lafayette has been taken prisoner by Benedict Arnold and his English troops.” George stated seriously, looking directly at Daniel. He knew how fond that his friend was of the younger Marquis, though he himself could barely focus on anything beyond it.

He feared deeply for Lafayette, not understanding **why** Benedict would want him as a prisoner. France still had not entered the war, so it wasn't as though he could be used against any French armies. The Americans adored Lafayette, though, so it would be a strong blow to the moral of the colonies that he had been captured as a prisoner. Hopefully, it would convince the Continental Congress to pay whatever price the English troops demanded for Lafayette's release.

Once thing was certain, however. George would not rest until he had his beloved Marquis back in his arms. For now, though, he had to write to Martha and tell her the dreadful, horrible news that Lafayette was now a prisoner of war.

 

To be continued


	10. Chapter 10.

**Title:** Where There Is A Flame

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the known Characters.

**Warning:** This story has graphic sexual encounters and could be considered an Alternate Universe for the TV show Liberty Kids. My French phrases are translated on a free site online; I apologize in advance if they are not correct. As far as I know, Lafayette's family being involved in a coup against King Louis XVI is strictly a figment of my imagination, as is the description of how his family treated him. His living with his paternal grandmother after his father's death is fact, as is his mother and great grandfather taking him when he was around eleven.

**Genre:** AU, Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

**Pairings:** George/Martha, George/Lafayette, James/Sarah

 

**Chapter 10.**

George Washington had brought both his own army and Lafayette's back to Fort Washington, dispatching his fastest riders to send urgent messages to the other generals to come there as well. Before the rumors began, he wanted to tell them himself of what had happened, including the circumstances of it.

Sarah, James, and Henri had been sent back to Philidelphia with five soldiers to protect them, for George was not taking any chances with their safety. He knew that Benedict had taken Sarah as a hostage initially, wanting to prevent such a thing from happening again. After all, the girl seemed still in shock over what had happened and what Benedict Arnold had done, using her to force Lafayette to surrender.

As he waited for the other generals to arrive, George retired to his tent, taking up paper and a quill quite solemenly, fear and anger warring with each other within his heart. Had he **known** that Benedict had Lafayette, he never would have wasted so much time searching the camp for the kidnapped teenager. The trail had run cold by the time he learned what had befallen the Marquis, the men he sent after the British soldiers unable to figure out where they had gone to.

Benedict Arnold was a clever man, to have split the army he had attacked with into different groups afterwards. There was no way for George to know where he would imprison Lafayette, nor of what the man would demand as a ransom. Whatever it was, George would give it and more to have him back safely, so long as it did not mean the end of the war for America.

Angry beyond measure, George breathed hard, his hands clenched into fists as he looked at the paper before him. Lafayette cared more about freedom and liberty than his own life and George knew that more than anyone else.

His wife deserved to know the truth, for she cared for the Marquis also. Her feelings did not match the love that he held in his heart for Lafayette, but her affection was sincere.

*********

Benedict Arnold was quite tired now, having ridden through most of the night and part of the next day, though he had only stopped a few times along the way. He had changed horses a few times and had taken a few hours to sleep, though now he and his men were finally back at their fort.

Lafayette was either asleep or unconscious, though Benedict did not particular care, looking down at the young man that he still held tightly in his grasp. There was no way that Lafayette would ever be allowed to escape from him, not until he had satisfied his honor with his revenge.

Dismounting carefully once one of his soldiers caught hold of the reins, Benedict held Lafayette more securely in his arms, staring intently down at his prisoner. Passed out or not, this would be the last true rest that the Marquis would have. His tiredness still present, Benedict looked at the men about him.

“Well done, all of you,” he praised sincerely, knowing that they, too, had to be just as worn out as he himself was. “Eat and rest, for we have been victorius this day.” The loud cheers that followed Benedict's words made him smile, as he shifted the limp teenager slightly.

Stalking into the lodging, Benedict heard the gates of his fort being closed behind him, knowing that for now, he still had a distinct advantage over George Washington. As long as he had Lafayette, he knew that the general of the Confederate Army wouldn't dare do anything that might cause him to harm his prisoner. Of course, Benedict intended to do a great deal of harm to Lafayette anyway.

Bringing Lafayette into his private room, Benedict was almost gentle as he laid him down upon the bed, hearing a soft sound coming from the younger man. Pulling a knife from his belt, he cut the rope around Lafayette's wrists slowly, taking care not to cut him as he did so.

Refastening his wrists to the headboard, Benedict was in quite a good mood as he checked how tight the rope was. After all, he didn't want his prisoner hurt unless he himself inflicted it. Lafayette's ankles were also freed, for it was no longer necessary since they were at his stronghold.

Besides the numerous British soldiers he commanded, there were also over a thousand Germans stationed here, so Benedict had no fear of them being attacked. George would be looking for where Lafayette was; he'd give his true feelings away if he ordered his men to go and attack every enemy fort in the hope of finding his precious Marquis.

His fingers trailed along Lafayette's face gently as Benedict untied the gag, revealing a pink pair of lips that were parted slightly, the tip of his tongue escaping to lick them slowly. Blue eyes trailed along the lean body, from the soft skin of the pale cheek he touched, then down his slight chest and torso and finally, his slim arms and thin legs.

As if aware of how he was being watched, Lafayette stirred a little, seemingly trying to turn onto his side, though his bound wrists prevented it. Leaning in, Benedict could see why George had fallen for the teenager, licking his own lips as he considered this development for a few moments. The British did not care what he did to Lafayette, after all, and doing what he was seriously thinking of might break the teenager even more.

Calloused fingers trailed up the Marquis' arms, enjoying the feel of the soft flesh so much that Benedict ached slightly, need burning within his blue eyes. Being used in such a way would surely humiliate Lafayette even more, especially since he had done this with George Washington.

For now, though, sleep was the priority.

It would be no fun to do **anything** to Lafayette while the younger man was sleeping, after all. Removing his boots and doing the same for the teenager, Benedict curled up in the bed as well, laying just behind Lafayette and wrapping his arms around him once he had pulled a blanket over them both. Doing so pressed him almost completely against the smaller body, though he forced the thought away, his desire warring with fatigue he felt.

When Benedict woke, he intended to have some **fun** with his prisoner.

*********

James was very worried about Sarah, as he watched the red-haired girl sitting quietly in the wagon with her head bowed. She had been like this ever since whatever had happened with Benedict Arnold, a bleakness in her usually fiesty green eyes that he did not like.

Whatever the traitor had done to her, James did not like it. He had a feeling that far more had happened that Sarah had admitted, for her to be acting so strangely. He was a little surprised at his concern for her, considering how much he had initially disliked her.

Henri had cried himself to sleep, laying upon the floor of the wagon as they rode home. Even in his slumber, his tears stained his small, tan cheeks, for he had not taken the news of Lafayette's capture well at all. In fact, the young boy was blaming Sarah for what had happened.

Refusing to speak to her after he had accused her of it openly, Henri had glared at her everytime he spoke. He knew it was true; Sarah had defied Gilbert's orders to remain hidden, instead **choosing** to go out and confront Benedict Arnold. She never would have been taken prisoner if she hadn't done something so foolish.

If Benedict Arnold had not been able to take Sarah prisoner, then he could never have forced Lafayette to surrender in exchange for her. Right now, Henri was so angry that he wished Sarah would just return to England, so that he never had to see her again.

James knew that Henri was angry, though he had not told General Washington about what Sarah had done. Maybe it was wrong of him, but he thought it would only make things worse at the present time. The way that the general had looked at Sarah when she had told them what had happened, the brief flash of anger within his eyes... James was afraid of what George Washington would do if he knew.

Sarah, for her part, had never felt more vulnerable and exposed in her life. Unable to cry anymore, it was ironic considering that she felt the urge to do so nonetheless. She had seen the anger as well, scared of what would happen to her when General Washington found out that she was directly responsible, rather than simply an innocent bystander.

Her confrontation with Benedict Arnold had completely failed, his accusations devastating to the fifteen-year-old as she swallowed hard. Now she couldn't help wondering if her mother would approve of what she had been doing as a journalist, especially if her reputation truly had been ruined.

Henri was right to blame her and she knew it. Sarah could admit that here, even if she had been too cowardly to face telling Generald Washington. He would be so angry with her, most likely as angry as she was at herself, and he had every right to be. The sad truth was, she didn't have the courage to face it right now, the courage that Lafayette had shown when he had traded himself for her. She doubted that she would ever forgive herself, just as she also believed that when the full truth was fully known, no one else would forgive her, either.

 

To be continued


	11. Chapter 11.

**Title:** Where There Is A Flame

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the known Characters.

 **Warning:** This story has graphic sexual encounters and could be considered an Alternate Universe for the TV show Liberty Kids. My French phrases are translated on a free site online; I apologize in advance if they are not correct. This story is now moving much darker, involving rape and torture. Please do not read if you are underage or uncomfortable with such things.

 **Genre:** AU, Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

 **Pairings:** George/Martha, George/Lafayette, James/Sarah

  


**Chapter 11.**  
 

When Lafayette woke up, he had no idea where he was first, stirring slightly before realizing that he could not move his arms. A little confused, the teenager tried again, only to still immediately when he realized that he was not in this bed alone.

“ **Quit** moving,” Benedict ordered coldly, more than a little irritated at having been awoken by the way that the bed had shifted when his captive had tried to sit up. “It's not even dawn yet, Lafayette...” His arm was still wound around the Marquis' waist, his mouth nearly against the smaller man's neck.

Lafayette caught his breath as he remembered what had happened, that he had traded himself for Sarah Philips. His movements ceased for the moment and he could feel the rope around his wrists, no doubt binding him to the headboard of the bed. Fear made him pale a little, for Lafayette could also feel Benedict holding onto him as well, the other man's mouth quite close to his throat.

Benedict opened his eyes, amused at the pallor that had crept across Lafayette's face, enjoying how his prisoner had squeezed his eyes shut, a little shiver running through the much slimmer **boy**. In his eyes, the Marquis de Lafayette was no man, nor was he a child. He was something in between the two and Benedict was quite enjoying himself.

He knew better than to fall back asleep though, knowing that for all his faults, Lafayette was quite intelligent. If given the opportunity, he would escape, something that Benedict could not allow. And since they were both awake, now, he decided that it was time to begin his punishment.

Rising from the bed, the brown-haired man looked over Lafayette, seeing how the teenager lay there, breathing hard in a futile effort to calm his fear. He smirked and moved further on to the door, opening it long enough to speak to the soldiers guarding his room.

Wondering what Benedict was doing, Lafayette's lashes parted as he opened his eyes again, watching the man that stood in the doorway talking to someone. He wondered **why** Benedict had wanted him as a prisoner. Aside from the few times that they had talked and talked battle strategy together wth General Washington, he had not had much interaction with him.

He, too, had been surprised when Benedict had turned traitor, though Lafayette had been much more worried about how George would take Benedict's betrayal than anything else. After all, he only knew a little bit about the problems that the other man had had with the Continental Congress in regards to his rank and pay.

Stilling as Benedict entered the room again, Lafayette watched him warily, licking his lips as he felt his captor once again looking him over. He had not idea of why Benedict kept doing it, but it made him very uneasy. Even George did not look at him like this.

Smirking inwardly at the expression on Lafayette's face, Benedict returned to the bed, sitting on the edge of it as he looked down at him, enjoying how much fear he could see. Briefly, he wondered if the Marquis realized just how openly he showed whatever emotion he was feeling. After all, most prisoners would be careful not to show their captors how afraid they were. The fact that Lafayette was doing so only furthered the fact that he was, indeed, not a **man** yet.

“I've arranged for breakfast to be brought,” Benedict informed Lafayette, truly enjoying how easily he could keep him off balance. “And a bath is being prepared for us...”

“For **us**?” Lafayette repeated softly, a slow, deep flush appearing on his face as he looked at Benedict, the idea alone embarassing. “I-I know how to bathe myself quite well and-”

Benedict cut him off, his blue eyes narrowing at the protesting, blushing teenager. “And I know **you** , Lafayette. I know better than to leave you alone **anywhere** , until you accept the fact that you are **my** prisoner,” he countered seriously, dark emotions glittering in his eyes.

“Do you not intend to ransom me, Benedict?” Lafayette was confused, remembering how other generals for the Confederate Army had been ransomed by the English generals. “The others were...” His hope had been that the same would happen for him, for he knew that George would pay almost any price for his release.

“Of course... **not** ,” Benedict cruelly replied, deliberately drawing out his words to dash the spark of hope he saw in Lafayette's eyes. “I intend to keep you as my prisoner until my honor is satisfied. And if you escape before that, then I know I will never be able to capture you again.” He paused, before he continued, letting Lafayette gape at him without punishment for the moment. “Do you really think that your precious General will ever allow you to be anywhere without him **ever** again?”

“I... I do not know what you **mean** ,” Lafayette denied immediately, his eyes lowering as his heart constricted, feeling like he was betraying George but knowing that he couldn't reveal the relationship to an enemy like Benedict. Fear was building inside of him at an alarming rate,

“Do you **really** think I don't know what you do with **him**?” Benedict moved swiftly, straddling the younger male without hesitation and pressing deeply into him, his hands on either side of Lafayette's small waist, caressing the tender flesh beneath the hem of his shirt. He enjoyed the shiver that went through the lean body at his words, the gasp that left those pink lips.

Lafayette shook his head, his heart pounding as he found himself beneath Benedict, feeling the older man's weight upon him as he trembled. He was so frightened at what he was doing that he reverted to his native tongue, jerking in a futile attempt to get Benedict off of him. “Arrêter... S'il vous plaît, arrêter... Pourquoi le faites-vous, Benedict?” he pleaded, his voice choking slightly, afraid of what the answer would be.

“Speak **English**!” Benedict demanded immediately, raising his hand to slap Lafayette hard. He enjoyed the sound that echoed in the room when his hand connected with his face, hearing a small sound of pain. Gripping Lafayette's face, he leaned his own in closer, enjoying how the teenager cringed at his nearness. The pathetic attempt to get him off had failed miserably. “Now... repeat what you just said, Lafayette.” He despised the fact that he, himself, did not know French. Unfortunately, he had had no time to learn the tongue.

His cheek burning in pain from the harsh slap, Lafayette swallowed thickly before he whispered, “I asked you to please stop and of why you are doing **this**...” His eyes lowered, though he could feel Benedict moving slightly upon him. “George has not...”

“I know you **seduced** him,” Benedict countered, smirking at Lafayette. “As for why I'm doing this...” He pretended to think about it for a moment, before he lightly traced his tongue across the warm lips of the French **boy**. “Perhaps you should think about what you **did** that would make me do this to you.”

“I **didn't** ,” Lafayette gasped, his gray eyes widening as he tried to turn his face away from Benedict's tongue. “I have not done this with George. He has not done this, he only...” His blush had increased, though he could honestly think of anything that he had done to made Benedict do this to him. He barely knew the man.

“Only **what**?” Benedict found himself questioning, seeing how Lafayette was looking at him, fear mixing with confusion, though he was pleased that the teenager was not denying something had happened between General Washington and himself. It was pointless to keep denying it since he already knew, after all.

“He kissed me,” Lafayette admitted softly, not knowing if it would make Benedict angrier to know that nothing else had happened, at least not yet. It was clear to him that Benedict **somehow** knew how he and George felt about each other, so there was no point in trying to hide it. He had no idea of how Benedict had figured it out, though.

Benedict found that pretty hard to believe, considering how often he had seen George's hands upon Lafayette back when he had been part of the Confederate Army. “Nothing more?” he persisted, remembering that Lafayette had spent Christmas with the Washingtons. “Even at Christmas?”

Lafayette shook his head, biting his lower lip. “His whole family was there,” he murmured, still speaking softly. “Before that, I was at a different fort with my soldiers...”

Narrowing his eyes, Benedict trailed his fingers along Lafayette's slight body, enjoying it even more now that he knew George had not been able to do this yet. Moving his hands to touch Lafayette upon his abdomen, beneath his clothing, he smirked slightly at how the teenager jerked again. “So kisses and nothing else,” he asked, wanting to confirm it before he moved any further.

“Nothing else,” Lafayette echoed, not understanding why Benedict was so focused on the fact that he and George had only kissed. His fears were realized, however, when Benedict smiled at him, before pressing a harsh kiss to his lips.

His longer body made itself comfortable on top of Lafayette, as he fully pressed against the teenager, Benedict hearing the whimper that escaped from the soft lips he enjoyed kissing. Lafayette was actually trembling and without hesitation, he touched him more intimately this time, his hand slipping down beneath the fabric of his pants.

“No!” Lafayette cried in desperation, gasping for air as Benedict lifted his lips for a moment, feeling the hand that was touching him in a way it had **no** right to. Callused fingers stroked him, heat building within him despite himself, tears welling in his gray eyes as he gave Benedict a pleading look. “Don't do this, **please** , Benedict...” He did not want any man besides George to touch him like this, knowing that Benedict was not doing this out of any genuine affection for him.

Feeling how Lafayette's sensitive body was responding because he really was a teenager, Benedict laughed at the sight of his tears. “I **will** be doing this,” he calmly replied, “for as often as I wish to, Lafayette.” He squeezed the swollen, growing erection he held, delighting in the helpless moan that left his prisoner.

“This is not how a prisoner is supposed to be treated,” Lafayette protested, tears running his pale face as he looked up at Benedict, the laugh making him realize that the older man had no intention of stopping. His words told the teenager the same thing, as he sobbed once before he was kissed against his will once more.

******

Far away on the Washington estate, Martha found herself now feeling the same worry and concern that her husband had felt before his desparture, the same uneasiness making her pace. She felt strongly that something was not right, as she looked out the window, even if she did not know exactly what it was.

She, of course, had no way of knowing what had happened, even as the rider carrying the letter from her husband galloped faster along the road, only a few miles away now. Martha did not like this, her fear for her husband just as strong as the fear she held for Lafayette. What happened to one would affect the other, after all. Never before in her life had she ever hoped to be wrong, yet her own fear increased at the sight of the soldier galloping up to her house.

 

To be continued


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rape Warning!

**Title:** Where There Is A Flame

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the known Characters.

 **Warning:** This story has graphic sexual encounters and could be considered an Alternate Universe for the TV show Liberty Kids. My French phrases are translated on a free site online; I apologize in advance if they are not correct. I am assuming Lafayette's hair is not naturally white considering his age, and also because the picture that Sarah has of her father shows him with white hair, yet when she found him his hair was red.

 **Special Note:** This chapter contains graphic rape. Please do not read if you are underage or uncomfortable with such things.

 **Genre:** AU, Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

 **Pairings:** George/Martha, George/Lafayette, James/Sarah

 

**Chapter 12.**

George was resting in his tent, though he was completely unable to sleep. It was no surprise, of course, for he couldn't concentrate on anything but what might be happening to Lafayette. Wherever Benedict was keeping the teenager as his prisoner, he was certain that Lafayette was afraid and not sleeping, either.

He had hoped by now that a ransom demand would have been made, but nothing had been delivered from any British soldier yet. George still did not understand why Benedict had singled Lafayette out like this, but he prayed that whatever revenge that the man wanted was not taken out on the innocent teenager.

Lafayette had done the honorable thing to save Sarah and he **knew** that, but George **had** noticed that neither James or Sarah had explained just **how** she had fallen into Benedict's grasp. It hadn't occured to him to keep them around longer to ask them more questions, though the fact that he had heard some of his soldiers speaking about how little Henri had yelled at Sarah. The fact that he had been blaming her for Lafayette being taken prisoner made George suspect that there was something else that had occured that he had not been told about.

Turning onto his side, George exhaled sharply, frustrated and scared for Lafayette. He knew that Benedict had not killed him, but he was worried of how changed the sweet teenager he had grown to love would be once he was rescued. He had no idea of what was happening to Lafayette right now, what Benedict was doing to him, and George absolutely, positively, **hated** feeling so helpless.

******

Martha had read the letter from George, her fear matched by her husband's as she sank into a chair, closing her eyes. This was something she had never wanted to happen, for either her husband or Lafayette. Truthfully, she had been more worried about Lafayette being taken prisoner instead of George, for her husband had much more experience in war. Additionally, George was the leader of the entire Confederate Army, not just in charge of an army or two.

Martha knew immediately that her husband had to be **extremely** upset. Lafayette's army had been isolated hours away from any other American soldiers and Generals. Despite the fact that George himself had brought reinforcements to Bunker Hill, she had read between the lines he had written of how he had not realized that when Benedict had been holding Lafayette prisoner at the time when the traitor had left the battle with his Britain soldiers.

Without being able to see him, Martha **knew** how worried and angry George was, partially blaming himself for not having realized that Lafayette was in danger until it was too late. She prayed with all her heart for two things above all else; first, that the ransom that Benedict demanded for Lafayette would be one that the Continental Congress would be willing to pay and second, that Lafayette be released alive, in the same condition that he had been taken in.

Unfortunately, Martha had no way of knowing that her wishes were in vain, as she began to write a response back to George, urging him to have faith that **somehow** things would be all right. She could not have known how wrong she was.

******

Far away from Fort Washington, in a British fort that he was not even sure of the name of, Lafayette was still bound to the bed he'd awoken on, his eyes squeezed shut as his lower lip trembled. Silent tears ran down his face as he trembled, glad that for the moment, Benedict had left, leaving him practically nude beneath the cool sheet that rested over him.

He hurt so badly in body and mind, too numb to say a word just yet. Had Benedict been here, Lafayette would not even be able to look at him, remembering what the man had done to him. It was bad enough that Benedict had touched him so lewdly, that he had forced kisses upon him, but the way that he had used him so horribly, done things that he, Lafayette, had not wanted him to do.

This was something that General Washington would never have allowed any of his men to do to any prisoners that the Americans were able to capture, something that not even the **Germans** would have tolerated. In fact, no foreign armies would allow any prisoner to be treated like this. Even Lafayette's own country did not condone anything like this, for a prisoner to be subjected to such abuse and humiliation.

***********

**Flashback**

***********

_Benedict sneered at Lafayette's protests of how a prisoner was supposed to be treated, rubbing himself eagerly against the teenager. “England doesn't care what I do to you,” he replied, his eyes hot with lust and satisfaction, drinking in the fear he saw so clearly. “After all, you are **French** , not American, Lafayette...”_

_The color completely drained from Lafayette's face at Benedict's words of England not caring what what happened to him, simply because he was not an American. He knew the tension between England and France was still bordering on war, but he had not expected this to happen. If anything, he had thought he would be used as a political prisoner against France to keep his country out of the war between America and England._

_Ignoring the shock he saw, Benedict removed his knife, silently but swiftly beginning to cut away Lafayette's clothes. Beginning with his shirt, the brown-haired man tossed the pieces of the faded material aside, remaining unaffected by the small sound that escaped from the Marquis as his chest was fully revealed._

_The sight was quite enjoyable, as Benedict lightly ran his fingers across the smooth, pale chest, paying particular attention to the rosy nipples that stood out so clearly. The feel was so different from what a woman felt like, yet he found it quite pleasant, lightly pinching and teasing them and smirking when they grew stiff beneath his fingertips._

_Lafayette squeezed his eyes shut, trying to pretend that this wasn't happening to him, pressing his lips together as he made a soft sound of protest. He could feel how hard his nipples had become, wishing that his body would listen to what he himself felt in his heart. Why was he responding so shamefully to Benedict's touch._

_Laughing softly as he saw how Lafayette was acting as though he wasn't doing anything to him, Benedict removed his fingers, setting his knife on the table beside the bed before he continued to undress the teenager, ignoring his whimper of protest. Undoing the belt upon his pants without hesitation, Benedict pulled it out, studying it with interest. He could use it as part of a punishment later, he mused, liking the idea very much._

_The belt joined his knife, folded upon on the table as Benedict unfastened Lafayette's pants, yanking them off quickly just to see how the teenager would respond. The gasp from the parted lips amused him, the way that Lafayette shivered as he was now fully bared to Benedict's piercing gaze, save for his underwear._

_“Please,” Lafayette pleaded softly, his voice cracking slightly as he looked at Benedict, hoping that he would stop. He knew it was probably futile, but the idea of Benedict doing this to him was unthinkable, especially since the only man he wanted to touch him was **George**. “Please, do not do this to me...”_

_Narrowing his blue eyes, Benedict reached down, taking hold of the white underwear and removing it just as callously as he had the pants and belt that the teenager had worn. “You have **no** say,” he informed Lafayette coldly, the chill in his voice making his prisoner tremble slightly._

_Lafayette swallowed hard, biting his lip as he did his best to keep from crying, feeling how Benedict was looking at him now that his clothes were gone. Without looking, he could hear the rustle of the older male's attire as he stripped himself, helpless to do anything **but** listen to what he was doing._

_Reluctantly admiring the much leaner body, Benedict moved to straddle Lafayette again, his own clothes having joined the younger male's pants upon the floor. The sight of how slender Lafayette truly was quite an enjoyable sight, somewhat surprising for him since Benedict had never before found himself attracted to **any** man before now. Indeed, even his wife was not as appealing to Benedict as Lafayette was right now._

_He **did** know what he was doing, for some of the men in his British army did have such leanings, and though Benedict had been curious and thus asked questions, he had never expected to use what he learned. Leaning in, Benedict gave Lafayette another kiss, settling himself more between the teenager's lean legs just as he shoved his tongue into his mouth._

_“ **No**...” Lafayette whimpered, feeling the tongue that pressed inside of his mouth as he yanked on his bonds, the way that Benedict was leaning over him making him tremble at what he knew was coming. His captor was between his legs now, using his hands to force them further apart._

_“ **Yes** ,” Benedict breathed in response, positively loving how Lafayette tried to escape, knowing that there was no way that the lean teenager could do so. The rope he had used was strong despite the fact that it wasn't as thick as one might think, and he had tied it quite tightly upon those thin wrists._

_Lifting his lips for a moment, Benedict licked them slowly, enjoying the quite intoxicating taste of Lafayette's sweet mouth. He moved a little further down, seeing something that amused him greatly. He had long suspected that despite being here in America, Lafayette still powdered his hair to make it appear white, and there was the proof of it, in the auburn hair between his legs._

_Benedict made a mental note to himself to make certain to wash every trace of the powder out of the teenager's hair, wanting to see what Lafayette's true hair color was, if was pure red or a darker hue. Meanwhile, he was growing rather impatient, eager to touch and feel more of Lafayette's youthful body._

_Sliding his hands beneath Lafayette, Benedict caressed his hips eagerly, caressing them gently but firmly as he watched his prisoner's face. He was just a little disappointed to see no tears yet, though he did like the way that Lafayette moaned in distress, smirking inwardly as he touched him once again._

_The initial arousal that he had managed to give Lafayette had faded, no doubt to his fear, and Benedict couldn't have that. There was no greater shame that he could give to Lafayette than to force him to enjoy what he was doing to him. Lifting his right hand, Benedict eyed the teenager, his own erection growing as he saw the flush upon Lafayette's cheeks. “Suck,” he ordered, placing three fingers before the younger male's slightly swollen lips._

_Lafayette's gray eyes widened a little, his lips parting a little as he tried to figure out why Benedict would want him to do this. Fear had driven all rational thought away from him as he hesitated for a moment, simply staring up at the man that leered at him. He dreaded what was coming, for he could feel the warm erection pressing against his bare thigh. Lafayette wanted nothing to do with this, to not particpate in any way at **all**._

_Annoyed at Lafayette's defiance, at least that was how Benedict saw it, he was quite displeased. “Do you **wish** for me to hurt you, Lafayette?” he sneered, smirking down at the flushed Marquis, lifting his free hand up to gently fondle him, teasing him intimately._

_The whimper made him smile, as Benedict enjoyed the sounds that Lafayette made as he stroked him slowly, his fingers caressing his growing erection. The teenager moaned, helplessly shuddering at the way that Benedict was touching him and once more, he was horrified to find himself responding, warmth building within his groin._

_Panting slightly, Lafayette could only feel himself getting harder and harder, crying out in need before he could stop himself. “S-Stop,” he cried, unable to keep from reacting to what Benedict was doing and deeply ashamed of himself._

_“Do you really think I will?” Benedict taunted darkly, absolutely, positively delighted at how Lafayette was gasping, bucking into his hand despite his protesting. “After all, I think you are enjoying this, Lafayette...” Bringing his free hand up to his own mouth, he moistened them with his own saliva._

_“I'm **not**!” Lafayette protested, almost sobbing aloud as he felt the hand upon his hip trailing down to tease him, pressing against his entrance slightly. He caught his breath as he felt the newly slickened finger beginning to move inside of him, not liking the feel at all. His heart pounding, he shook his head, wordlessly begging his captor to stop before it was too late._

_Benedict cruelly laughed at the denial, already feeling moisture upon his fingers from how aroused Lafayette had become. “That's not what your **body** is saying,” he taunted, flexing his fingers pointedly as he smirked at his prisoner. Clearly, Lafayette had not been lying when he said that George had not done this to him yet._

_Carefully beginning to stretch the teenager's body with his fingers, inserting them one at a time, Benedict could barely believe how incredibly **tight** Lafayette was, barely able to contain himself in his eagerness. The only reason he was bothering to prepare him was for the simple fact that in order for him to completely humiliate Lafayette, he wanted him to force him into feeling pleasure in this as well._

_Lafayette's body was slowly turning a rather becoming rosy shade the more aroused he became, the fingers that moved within him feeling rather strange as he tried not to think about what was happening to him, what Benedict was about to do. “ **No** ,” he whispered, helpless as the older man moved upon him just once._

_Leaking slightly from his own erection, Benedict knew that it would only aid his way into Lafayette, aching now as the sight of the trembling, frightened teenager only increasing the lust he felt. Once more laying upon Lafayette's body, pressing him into the mattress eagerly, he positioned the very tip of his arousal at the younger man's entrance, slowly beginning to force himself inside._

_Lafayette found himself crying out in pain as he felt Benedict shoving inside of him, tears burning his eyes and escaping to trickle down his face. It **hurt** , it **burned** , and he screamed for his tormentor to **stop** , sure that this was going to render him in two. Not even caring that he was crying now, Lafayette wanted this to stop, the agony he felt only increasing as Benedict filled him completely._

_Benedict, in contrast, felt **wonderful** , enjoying the way that Lafayette's body was squeezing him so tightly as his prisoner wept openly, begging him to stop. He looked **so** miserable and unhappy, the teenager's voice hitching several times as he cried._

_The tears, naturally, had little affect on Benedict as he began to slowly move in and out of Lafayette, moaning his pleasure out for the warm, tight form that he was buried inside of. His fingers resumed upon the erection of the sobbing younger male beneath him, working swiftly to bring him to fulfillment as well. He knew that he would not last very long, not with the way that Lafayette's body gripped him like that. The feeling was **exquisite** and he hoped to enjoy it many more times._

***************

**End Flashback**

***************

Benedict was quite satisfied, eating his breakfast quietly now in his office and feeling quite relaxed, due to the ease of certain... **tension**. While his tactic of what he had done to Lafayette had meant to break the French teenager, his own pleasure in such a thing had been unexpected.

Of course, Lafayette's body was nothing at all like a man's **should** be, at least in Benedict's mind, but still, it said something about Benedict himself that he had enjoyed claiming the Marquis in such a way. The fact that he had been able to take Lafayette to **his** bed before George had been able to had only made it that much more pleasurable for him.

He'd left Lafayette sobbing in his bed, knowing the sheets had to be changed later due to the blood and the rather sticky residue that had dripped its way out of the younger male. Benedict would have it done while he took Lafayette to the warm bath that would be ready soon. He enjoyed recalling the way that those large, gray eyes had lost their innocence as he filled the teenager with his hot essence, so many tears running down those pale cheeks that Benedict could not even count them all.

The fact that his own fingers had been coated with Lafayette's release had only made his revenge all the sweeter, as Benedict had panted heavily upon the teenager, licking his lips with sweat dripping from his brow. He didn't bother to taunt the teenager just now, letting him now think about what had happened, of the fact that he was now, for all intents and purposes, **damaged** goods.

Benedict could not imagine George taking Lafayette as a lover now, not after he had done so, regardless of the fact that the Marquis had fought him as much as he had been able to. One thing was certain to Benedict, however. He was not going to be satisfied with only having Lafayette's body just **once**. An even darker thought occurred to him, one that made him chuckle darkly.

Perhaps when the war was over, he could keep Lafayette strictly for a bed slave?

To be continued


	13. Chapter 13.

**Title:** Where There Is A Flame

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the known Characters.

 **Warning:** This story has graphic sexual encounters and could be considered an Alternate Universe for the TV show Liberty Kids. My French phrases are translated on a free site online; I apologize in advance if they are not correct. I am assuming Lafayette's hair is not naturally white considering his age, and also because the picture that Sarah has of her father shows him with white hair, yet when she found him his hair was red.

 **Special Note:** This chapter contains graphic rape and forced oral sex. Please do not read if you are underage or uncomfortable with such things.

 **Genre:** AU, Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

 **Pairings:** George/Martha, George/Lafayette, James/Sarah

  


**Chapter 13.**

Lafayette had lost track of time since he was taken prisoner, kept inside of the bedroom that he had been taken to since the first day that Benedict Arnold had brought him here. He had only been allowed to leave a few times, though he had never gone anywhere without his captor with him. In fact, unless he was in this room and tied to the bed, he was never left alone.

With the bedroom being completely on the interior of the building he was imprisoned in, Lafayette could not even count the number of hours that had passed. It mattered not to him, though, because he had lost all sense of the hope he had once held. Long, auburn hair rested upon the pillow, every trace of the powder that Lafayette had been using on it having been washed away by Benedict in the **extremely** embarrassing bath that the teenager never wanted to experience **ever** again.

**********

**Flashback**

**********

_After having been used so callously by Benedict just a few hours, Lafayette had placed all thoughts of the bath out of his mind, though he later wished that he had not. Finding himself naked inside of a warm bath had been humiliating, especially considering that he still had the remnants of the older man's lust upon his pale skin. He still had not been fed, nor had he been given anything to drink yet, making Lafayette feel tired and weak._

_Lafayette's hands were now bound behind his back, his eyes closed tightly as he felt Benedict washing him. It was a deep struggle to keep himself from crying, the feeling of those cruel hands upon him making him feel ill. He knew without looking that Benedict was smiling, knowing how much his captor enjoyed his pain._

_Benedict could see the tension that Lafayette held, his soapy fingers exploring every single **inch** of that slender little body. From the bottom of his feet all the way up to his face, **nothing** was left untouched, not even the sensitive flesh between the teenager's legs, though that did make Lafayette gasp and shiver, just as he had earlier in the morning._

_Not forgetting his desire to see the true color of the boy's hair, Benedict thoroughly wet Lafayette's hair first before he began to cleanse it deeply, his fingernails pressing firmly into his prisoner's scalp to remove the built up powder from the long strands. With it being so wet, Benedict could see that the Marquis' hair was longer than he had thought, rinsing his hands before he did the same for the soapy strands, seeing the darker shade that showed clearly without the tinted powder._

_It suited him, Benedict mused absently, considering the paleness of Lafayette's soft skin, his hands fondling the teenager as he played with him, much to his prisoner's obvious distress. His blue eyes were heated again as Benedict forced Lafayette to shift up in the large tub, glad that he had shed his own clothes as he joined him in the heated water._

_Lafayette froze as he felt Benedict pressing against him from behind, immediately trying to move away from him to keep the man from touching him again. The younger male swallowed hard, stifling a sob as firm arms wrapped around his lean waist, pulling him back towards the brown-haired man._

“ _ **No** ,” Lafayette whispered pleadingly, knowing what was coming because of how Benedict was breathing so hard, feeling the man's bare, hairy chest as it rubbed against his warm, wet back as he was forced to sit upon his lap. His eyes closing, Lafayette could do little more than silently cry as he once again felt Benedict pushing inside of his body._

_Moaning eagerly once he was fully inside of Lafayette, Benedict moved quickly, impaling the teenager eagerly with deep, lustful thrusts. The feel of how warm and wet Lafayette's body currently was only added to the pleasure that Benedict felt, for he had long held a secret fetish for water._

_Whimpering as Benedict repeatedly shoved into him so harshly, Lafayette's silence was broken, a defeated, sad sound that had the older man chuckling behind him. For the first time in his life, the Marquis found himself **hating** someone more than he had hated his own mother, crying openly as salty liquid trickled down his face._

_It was over quickly, for Benedict made no attempt to force Lafayette to enjoy how he used him this time, the soft sobs of pain adding to the excitement that he felt. Filling the bound teenager with his eager release, he held Lafayette tightly while he himself shivered in the aftermath, beads of sweat running down Benedict as he sighed in satisfaction._

***************

**End Flashback**

***************

The sparkling gray eyes that Lafayette had once possessed had faded to a much duller color, his body sporting bruises and rope burns in various places. Benedict had been true to his word, claiming his body repeatedly to satisfy his lust despite any protests that he made. It never did any good, so he had simply stopped, allowing his captor to do whatever he wished without saying a word.

Lafayette could not cry anymore, laying still upon the bed in just the pants that Benedict had dressed him in. He was not even allowed to feed himself, being forced to eat what the older man fed him from his own plate. There was still no mention of him being ransomed yet and Benedict had delighted in telling him that George Washington had no idea of where he even was, so there was no hope of rescue. Had he been here for days or was it truly weeks? He was not entirely sure.

Despair had settled into the teenager's heart, rendering him practically mute now for the most part. Lafayette could not believe that this had been allowed to happen, though he now knew that Benedict had not been exaggerating when he said that England did not care what he did to his prisoner.

**********

**Flashback**

**********

_Lafayette had not understood why Benedict had brought him to his office, his wrists and ankles bound together tightly once again. This time, however, the nineteen-year-old had been forced to kneel on the ground by his captor's desk, though at least he had not been gagged. His relief had such a thing had quickly changed, however, when Benedict had closed the door and lowered the curtains, keeping anyone from seeing what he was about to do._

_Seeing the confusion in Lafayette's eyes, Benedict was glad that he had spoken with the same helpful men from before, learning more about something that he had barely scratched the surface on. They had told him about something else he could do to his prisoner, something that might bring back those beautiful tears. Since this would be the first time, Benedict would be merciful if Lafayette would at least make an attempt to do it right._

_He enjoyed seeing how those eyes widened, dread and fear showing in the gray depths as Benedict removed his trousers and underwear, setting them aside before joining his prisoner. Taking a firm grip on Lafayette's fine, auburn hair, he jerked it slightly, hearing a soft sound of pain._

“ _Open your mouth,” Benedict ordered, weaving his fingers into the silky strands but still holding it tightly. He smirked, seeing those pretty pink lips parting, though not far enough for what he intended to do. His left hand came up, taking hold of Lafayette's face and applying more pressure in an attempt to force him to open his mouth wider._

_Lafayette squirmed a little, keeping his lips parted as Benedict wanted, though he honestly had no idea of what the man was planning to do until the movement he actually did it. Bendict's hot, firm erection was pressed against his parted lips, slipping into his mouth slowly but steadily, and Lafayette nearly choked as the full, heavy arousal pressed fully inside._

_It tasted salty and bitter, and Lafayette coughed hard, barely remembering to breathe through his nose as he felt the hand on his face now tilting up his chin. “Watch your **teeth** ,” Benedict snapped, having felt them scrape him slightly, glaring at the teenager that looked up at him, his eyes watering a little._

_Trying to do so, Lafayette honestly was not entirely sure of **how** he was supposed to watch his teeth, feeling the heated flesh pressing against his tongue slightly as the older man moved suddenly. _

_Benedict rocked his hips slowly, testing the feel of Lafayette's moist, hot mouth around him, closing his eyes as he remembered what he had been told. “Use your lips and tongue on me, Lafayette,” he commanded, fixated on the flushed cheeks of his young prisoner, tears running down the pale cheeks._

_Shaking slightly at the order, Lafayette remained unmoving too long for Benedict's liking, the brown-haired man ripping a few strands of the younger's hair out when he yanked it hard. “ **Now** ,” he hissed, anger sparking in the blue of his eyes._

_His scalp stinging now, Lafayette began to do as he was told, licking and sucking upon Benedict as best as he could, so ashamed that he closed his eyes. Why did he have to humilate him like this? He hadn't done **anything** to Benedict, nothing that he knew of._

_Using him like this was downright degrading, especially since Lafayette could taste the same warm liquid that had filled him. Now he knew that it was thick and even more salty than he could have imagined, and Lafayette wished he didn't know what it tasted like._

_The fingers tangled within his hair only made Lafayette want to cry more as he continued to pleasure him, occasionally feeling Benedict thrusting into his mouth at the same time as he tugged upon his hair. The sounds that left **him** were from pleasure, especially compared to the whimpers that escaped from Lafayette, which told of how badly he did not want to be doing this. He wasn't even sure if he was doing it **right** , considering he'd never done this._

_Benedict could clearly see how miserable the teenager was, though he was responding to the sweet lips and tongue regardless, moaning louder as he bucked into Lafayette's sweet mouth more. He had no intention of taking his pleasure inside of it, however, planning something else entirely._

_After all, his ultimate goal was to completely **break** Lafayette._

_Right before he did so, Benedict reluctantly pulled out of the inviting, warm mouth, the hot, cream-colored liquid spraying across the teenager's face and hair, purposefully leaving his mark upon him. He had a surprise for his prisoner, something that he thought would reaffirm to the Marquis of just what his position here truly **was**._

_As Lafayette sputtered slightly, his lips swollen and red, he wondered just **why** Benedict had done that, feeling disgusting and dirty right now. He coughed once more, watching with deeply flushed cheeks as his captor fixed his pants. He did not expect him to go to the door and open it, inviting none other than General Cornwallis inside._

_Wishing right now that he was anywhere but here, Lafayette's eyes burned as much as his face did, knowing that the British commander had heard everything that had just happened, of what Benedict had forced him to do. A tiny part of him hoped that General Cornwallis would put a stop to what Benedict was doing to him, though his hope was quickly destroyed._

_The England lord glanced neutrally at the pathetic Frenchman that cowered on the floor, ignoring the thick fluid that dripped down his hair and face. “Is everything going to plan?” he questioned calmly, his eyes upon Benedict and nothing else. After all, what else did matter right now?_

_General Washington seemed at a loss since they had made no demand for Lafayette's safe release, so it appeared that Benedict was right. There had been several battles since the day that the patriot turned loyalist had captured the Marquis de Lafayette, and in each one, they, the loyal Englishmen, had triumphed._

_It was clear that General Washington was far more worried about this trembling, young teenager than anything else, even the war that was going on. Benedict's prediction of the man's response to Lafayette being taken as their prisoner had come true._

“ _General Washington still does not know where he is,” Benedict replied, a smirk appearing as he looked at the commander of the British Army. “As such, I have been able to focus solely upon my revenge without having to worry about his retaliation.” He smiled wider, looking down at his prisoner when Lafayette made a soft, helpless sound at hearing that his beloved General still did not know where Benedict had brought him._

_Of course, Lafayette had no idea where he was, either, but he was desperate to see George again. And seeing that the British commander was so indifferent to him, Lafayette now knew that Benedict had not been lying when he said that England would not interfere with whatever he did. He hated what Benedict was doing to him, the fact that the man was using him so brutally making him fear what the man he loved would say when he found out._

_Benedict had taken great delight in taunting Lafayette about what General Washington's response would be, the pain and fear that the younger man was experiencing right now making him wonder if it was true._

_Would George truly see him as damaged and no longer worthy of his love?_

***************

**End Flashback**

***************

Lafayette despaired of ever being free again, no longer able to recall what the sun felt like on his face. Benedict had told him of his plans for after the war ended, of how he intended to keep him as a prisoner even then. He had smiled grimly as he continued to speak, informing Lafayette that he would be continuing to use him **then** as he did **now**.

The idea of such a future made Lafayette wish for death, as ashamed as he was to admit it.

To be continued


	14. Chapter 14.

**Title:** Where There Is A Flame

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the known Characters.

**Warning:** This story has graphic sexual encounters and could be considered an Alternate Universe for the TV show Liberty Kids. My French phrases are translated on a free site online; I apologize in advance if they are not correct. Mention of rape in this chapter!

**Genre:** AU, Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

**Pairings:** George/Martha, George/Lafayette, James/Sarah

 

**Chapter 14.**

For the first time in his life, George Washington found himself in a situation that he could not control, as close to near panic as he had ever been. Even fighting in battle was better than this, because at least he could fire musket balls at the enemy rather than this endless **waiting**.

**Nobody** had any idea of where Lafayette was being held prisoner.

None of his spies had seen either the teenager **or** Benedict Arnold, though George was confident that they hadn't left America. He had made absolutely certain that his spies kept an eye on all of the harbors since Lafayette's capture, so they **had** to still be here, somewhere. George would bet every dollar he owned that wherever his dear Marquis was, Benedict Arnold was with him.

After all, Lafayette had been Benedict's target, the reason that the man had moved around so much during the winter.

It was all so clear to George, now that he knew what Benedict had been planning to do. He had never imagined that Lafayette would be the focus for the traitor's revenge. How could he have been so **blind**?

General Morgan had admitted to him that he had heard Benedict speaking ill of Lafayette quite a few times, when George was not around. Daniel had scolded Benedict for his words against the brave teenager, and since he had not heard Benedict saying anything since then, so he had assumed that Benedict had come to his senses. Of course, Benedict was then proven to be a traitor.

After all, the way that Benedict claimed that Lafayette had gotten the promotion and glory that **he** rightfully deserved had certainly not been reasonable. Lafayette had nothing to do with Continental Congress and **their** decisions.

George shook his head, both of his large hands resting upon his table as he leaned over it. He may have praised Lafayette heavily, but he had always given Benedict his fair share. The fact that Benedict did not give Lafayette the credit he was due spoke ill of the man.

After all, Lafayette had proven himself to be an equal to Benedict in his leadership and strategy skills, despite the difference of years between them. George could only imagine how Lafayette would improve his natural talents given the opportunity, especially considering how fast he learned. The question was, however, if Lafayette **would** be alive to learn more.

How was George supposed to free Lafayette without knowing where he was? Without a ransom demand, he couldn't secure the Marquis' freedom. At this point in time, George would storm the fort with the entire Confederate Army if he but knew **which** one Benedict was keeping Lafayette prisoner in. It had been **weeks** , now, without a **single** word to even let him know if Lafayette lived.

**********

Benjamin Franklin had received word from America about the Marquis de Lafayette's capture, the news concerning him greatly. Though he had never met the teenager before he had left France to go help the Americans fight for their freedom and liberty from England, Ben knew from the letters he had received from Congress that Lafayette fought sincerely for those ideals, not for personal glory.

The stories of Lafayette's victories in battle were extremely popular in France, sparking more and more interest in the American cause, something that pleased the older man greatly. Ben had no idea of how this would affect his negotiations with King Louis XVI.

It would either benefit or **ruin** them.

For the sake of all that he held dear, Ben hoped that it was the former.

**********

The palace in France was usually quiet so early in the morning, but this particular day, there was a great sense of urgency.

A letter had been brought to the Comte de Vergennes, bringing news that none of them wanted to hear. The Marquis de Lafayette's capture was a dangerous turn of events, something that he had never expected to happen when the teenager had so impulsively sailed to America to aid in their cause.

Knowing what he did, the Comte de Vergennes was not certain of how much longer France could afford to stay out of the war. He had confirmed the rumors now and with it being **Lafayette** in danger, King Louis XVI would surely act. There was nothing else to be done for it, for England could not be permitted to take captive and, more importantly, to be allowed to execute the Marquis.

Something was not right, the Comte de Vergennes knew, which was the reason for his pacing this morning.

England's forces had had Lafayette prisoner for **weeks** , yet there had been no ransom demands made to the Americans, nor had England sent one to France. Whatever they were up to, he didn't like it at all. Why would they hold such an important French nobleman prisoner and **not** make one?

Surely they knew **who** Lafayette was?

France and, more to the point, King Louis XVI, would pay any price to secure his safety and freedom. Despite the King's anger about how Lafayette had snuck out of France and joined the fight, there was no doubt in the Comte de Vergennes' mind that he would allow Lafayette to be killed. The teenager was far too important for that.

It was time to speak to Benjamin Franklin, he decided, and find out what he knew about Lafayette's capture. With how popular the Marquis was in America, the Comte de Vergennes knew that they would do their best to prevent his death as well.

However, he doubted that they had the money or soldiers to pay whatever price England could demand for Lafayette. France could and **would** do so, if they were but **told** what England wanted.

If a single **hair** on Lafayette's head had been harmed, then that would make England a very personal enemy of King Louis XVI. The saying that came to his mind was old, though he thought it was rather fitting: ' _The enemy of my enemy is my friend..._ '

**********

Benedict Arnold lay in his bed, holding his young prisoner tightly against him as he focused on the wooden ceiling above, pondering his next move. He was a little disappointed that Lafayette seemed to have broken in only a few weeks, having hoped that he would lost longer.

The boy no longer cried, not even when Benedict delighted in claiming Lafayette's body each night, no matter how rough he was to him. He simply lay there, taking whatever he did to him silently, and while Benedict still greatly enjoyed laying with him, he greatly disliked the fact that Lafayette's spirit seemed have left him.

Those gray eyes had darkened, a rather solemn, resigned look in them these days that had replaced the youthful glow that had been there the day Lafayette had arrived in America from France. It was a pleasing change, for now Benedict knew that Lafayette had learned how **humiliation** felt.

However, despite the fact that he was no less entranced with the lean, pale body he held in his arms, Benedict **wanted** those tears back. He wanted to hear those sobs, the whimpers and moans that accompanied them, and the way that Lafayette shook in his arms each time he penetrated the boy against his will.

It was not **satisfying** to have Lafayette so listless like this, to offer no protest against what he was doing any longer.

Additionally, Benedict had received orders from General Cornwallis that he was to at least feign that he was attempting to decide on what America had to give them for the release of their beloved Marquis de Lafayette. It was rather annoying, but perhaps he could turn it to his advantage.

If anyone could bring Lafayette's courage and determination back, it was George Washington. No one would think it amiss if Benedict demanded that the leader of the Confederate Army be the **only** one he negotiated with. Of course, he had **no** intention of giving Lafayette back, but how could General Washington know it?

Peering down at his captive, Benedict's blue eyes narrowed as he saw that Lafayette was asleep, his wrists still bound and chafed slightly from the rope that kept him tied to the headboard. How simply delightful it would be for him, to bring back Lafayette's hope only to crush it later.

And, even more importantly, Benedict couldn't **wait** for George Washington to see just how Lafayette's spirit had been broken. The idea burned within the brunette male, as he trailed his fingers down a pale thigh absently. Of course, he was certainly not going to allow General Washington to know about **this** just yet.

However, Benedict's eyes gleamed as a new thought occurred to him, the idea alone a triumph as he thought it over for several minutes. Of course, he would have to plan it carefully, making certain that all of his own forces and the German soldiers were visible. It would certainly keep the leader of the Confederate Army unable to focus on **anything** else.

What better sight for George to see when he arrived than his beloved Lafayette receiving a **public** flogging? If it was done correctly, then Benedict knew that he could arrange it for George to **hear** screams before he even arrived, and then the sight of his face when he realized just **who** had been screaming?

That was something that Benedict just **had** to see.

To be continued


	15. Chapter 15.

**Title:** Where There Is A Flame

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the known Characters.

**Warning:** This story has graphic sexual encounters and could be considered an Alternate Universe for the TV show Liberty Kids. My French phrases are translated on a free site online; I apologize in advance if they are not correct. Mention of rape in this chapter!

**Genre:** AU, Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

**Pairings:** George/Martha, George/Lafayette, James/Sarah

  


**Chapter 15.**

Benedict was feeling quite pleased with himself, watching with a smirk as General Washington stalked angrily out of the fort. The expression upon his face had been **wonderful** , as had the fact that George had not even recognized Lafayette when he had first arrived. His blue eyes held triumph as the brown-haired male looked at the shirtless teenager still bound to the wooden post, slumping against it as he continued to kneel upon the ground.

Benedict relaxed against the door frame, studying the slight male with blood trickling down his back, thick, swollen welts standing out clearly against the pale skin from the whipping he had recieved. The heat from the sun was only increasing, making it even hotter outside, but he had no intention of bringing Lafayette back inside right now. After all, Benedict knew without even looking that George's men were watching them from the nearby hill. He had no intention of looking weak in their eyes by showing any sort of compassion to a prisoner.

**********

George Washington was incapable of speech at the moment, his blue eyes full of repressed rage and pain as he returned to the soldiers that he had left outside of the British fort on Benedict's orders. The traitor **had** kept his word and allowed him to leave, but leaving Lafayette behind had **galled** him, especially seeing the condition he was in.

When George had been brought the letter that Benedict had sent in regards to negotiating Lafayette's ransom, he had expected treachery. After all, that was exactly what his former General had done to both him and the American cause. He had **never** considered that Lafayette would be treated like this by someone George had once called a friend.

************

**Flashback**

************

“ _But how can you be certain that Benedict **will** keep his word?” Daniel Morgan protested, looking at his General with genuine worry in his eyes. “He has proven that he has **no** honor at all, George...”_

_George heard the concern, knowing that it was not unfounded. Benedict was a traitor and could never be trusted, but there was **no** choice. After waiting so long for England to make a ransom demand for Lafayette, he feared what would happen if he didn't cooperate, at least for right now. The letter that had demanded that he come alone to speak with Benedict had been a surprise, though he had not cared about the danger that it would put **him** in personally._

_If it was the only way to for them to ensure Lafayette's freedom, George would do as Benedict . “I know, Daniel,” he finally said, looking at him seriously. “I know his word cannot be trusted, my friend, but... I **have** to take that chance.”_

“ _But what if he kills you, George?” Daniel's dark eyes widened as he saw the resolve in George's blue eyes, realizing that such a thing did not matter to him. “Congress will never approve of this, you **know** that...”_

“ _Daniel...” George exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a moment. “Right now in that fort, there is a nineteen-year-old whose **life** is at stake. Lafayette has risked **everything** for our cause, even to the extent of defying his own king.” He swallowed hard, before directly looking into his old friend's brown eyes. “How can I ask more from **him** than what **I** myself am willing to do?”_

_Daniel grew flustered at the reminder of Lafayette's age, hearing the pain in George's voice. He knew how much his General adored the sweet teenager, claiming that he was as a son to him. “What if he's already dead, George?” he softly asked, knowing it was a strong possibility since Lafayette had not been seen since his capture._

“ _Then **I** will kill Benedict Arnold,” George replied seriously, the blue in his eyes taking on a grayer hue than normal as he resolved himself to it, knowing it was true. If Lafayette had been executed by Benedict, George would take the man's life in return, former friend or not._

****************

**End Flashback**

****************

Regardless of what the Continental Congress would say, George had been determined to meet with Benedict as soon as possible, willing to pay whatever price the man demanded as long as Lafayette was released. He had reached the camp in record time, bringing with him a contingent of his own soldiers, along with the men that made up Lafayette's army.

He had been instructing them to remain upon the nearby hill, hidden in the trees just out of sight of the British soldiers, when he had heard the cracking sounds of a whip. At the time, George had not realized what was happening, not until after he was inside of the fort. What made it worse now was **knowing** that the cries of pain he had heard upon his arrival had been made by someone that George loved so dearly.

************

**Flashback**

************

_George had dismounted, walking his horse to the gate at the fort without a word. He knew he didn't have to introduce himself, considering that he **was** the commander of the American army. His eyes were focused on the British soldier that took the reins from him, stepping aside so that he could enter._

_Not hesitating even for a moment, George did so, mentally counting the number of soldiers that he saw, his heart sinking slightly. There were so many British officers here, along with German troops, that it was impossible to count them all. Even if he could not see their faces clearly at this distance, the colors of their uniforms told him which side they belonged to._

“ _Welcome, General Washington,” Benedict Arnold called from where he stood upon the porch, walking over to look at his former commander. He could see the dark circles that showed clearly, the red-rimmed eyes that told him volumes of how he had been handling Lafayette's capture._

_Out of sight between the buildings, several British soldiers stood around the post, watching as the beating continued. It was quite amusing for them, as they jeered the young prisoner, hearing him gasping and whimpering each time that the leather struck his bared back._

_None of them were entirely sure of **why** the Frenchman was being punished like this, but at least it provided some entertainment for them. The sounds of pain were growing louder, blood dripping from the teenager's back now as his skin was torn by the harsh leather that struck him repeatedly, each blow burning as he trembled, doing his best to keep the involuntary tears from escaping his gray eyes._

“ _At least cry for us,” one soldier sneered, laughing as he saw the way that the Marquis pressed his lips together, seemingly determined to take his punishment in silence. It was no fun for them if they couldn't make him cry, after all._

_George could hear the whip, ignoring it for the moment to look at Benedict, determination in his eyes. “Where is Lafayette?” he questioned, not liking the laughter he could hear from behind the building that Benedict had come from._

“ _There's plenty of time for you to see him,” Benedict countered calmly, waving his hand dismissively, as if showing how little he cared about what George wanted. He smirked inwardly when he saw how George's eyes flashed at hearing his words, having known how he would respond to the suggestion._

_George stiffened, seeing how calm Benedict was, especially considering the fear he held that Lafayette had been killed. “I'm not negotiating with you about the price for Lafayette's freedom until I **see** him,” he stated flatly, crossing his arms as he looked the other man directly in the eyes._

_Sighing audibly, Benedict inclined his head. “Very well,” he replied, moving past George and smiling slightly, knowing that George couldn't see it as he slowly led him towards where he had placed Lafayette, binding his wrists to the old wooden post near the barn. He had given his soldiers precise instructions as to what they could and could not do to Lafayette, eagerly anticipating George's reaction._

_George, for his part, was immediately suspicious of how easily Benedict had agreed to allow him to see Lafayette, to ensure for himself that the precious teenager was still alive. He immediately disliked the fact that he was being led directly towards where he believed the cracks of the whip to be coming from, dread clenching his stomach as he grimly followed Benedict._

_There were not too many soldiers in this area, he noted, close enough to see the way that they eyed him, silently judging him without saying a word. A group of redcoats were gathered together and, just as he had feared, George was brought directly there._

_At first, he did not recognize the male that knelt in the mud before the wooden post that he had been tethered to, his auburn hair hanging loosely as the whip was once more brought down upon his back, taking skin with it. George was apalled at such a sight, seeng that this prisoner was being treated like an animal, being bound out here and subjected to a beating. The small of his back showed the welts so clearly, the inflammation obvious to George as he swallowed hard._

_Looking away reluctantly, he gave Benedict a hard stare. “Where is **he**?” he demanded, flinching inwardly at the whimper that left the young man when he was struck again and again._

_Benedict had not expected that George would not recognize his beloved Marquis, though perhaps he should have, considering how his hair had been freed from the powdered tint. Additionally, Lafayette was even slighter now, with all that dirt upon his pretty, pale skin. He'd have to give him another bath before returning him to his bed._

_Looking at his men, Benedict gestured for them to move away, including the soldier that had been wielding the whip before he walked up to the prisoner, carefully taking hold of the long, reddish strands as he twined his fingers in them. Pulling firmly, though not so harshly that it ripped the hair from Lafayette's scalp, he forced the teenager's face up towards George without a word._

_His expression was completely worth all of this, Benedict mused, as the **great** General Washington opened and closed his mouth a few times, the color draining from his face as he realized that the one who had been whipped, the one who had been crying out in pain was none other than **Lafayette**. _

“ _Have you learned your lesson, Lafayette?” Benedict gently asked, seeming not to notice the fact that **tears** had risen in George's eyes. In secret, he relished the sight, knowing that very few would ever get to see such a rare thing._

_Lafayette, his gray eyes still closed, dreaded the thought of opening them, knowing that his dear General was here and had seen him like this. George's voice was unmistakeable to him, hurting him even worse than the agony his back was in. It was so shameful, for the man he loved to see him like this, even if George did not know what Benedict had already done to him._

“ _Y-Yes, sir,” he whispered, his voice small and meek at the question, his gray eyes opening to intently study the dirt beneath him. He did not dare to look at George, knowing that he would cry and thus reveal how truly weak he was to his beloved General. Sweat had risen on him with the intense heat of the sun, the moisture burning along his back where he had been whipped. Biting his lower lip, Lafayette could feel the fingers tangled within his hair._

“ _Then the punishment is over for now,” Benedict stated seriously, looking at his men for a moment before he returned his eyes to his prisoner. “You will remain here and think on what you did until the sun sets, Lafayette. Do not cross me **again**....”_

_Not daring to say a word, lest Lafayette be punished for it, George **ached** to take Lafayette in his arms, to soothe his hurts away with gentle, loving words. To see his smooth flesh marred with the cruelty of a whip, hearing how Lafayette responded to Benedict's words with no protest or defiance made him want to weep. George wondered helplessly how Benedict had accomplished breaking Lafayette to submitting to his will._

_If there weren't so many soldiers here, he'd kill the man for this, for what he had done to Lafayette. George had **never** heard that using a whip on a prisoner was allowed to the extent that it covered nearly **all** of said captive's back. Lafayette's back was practically shredded, scarcely any skin showing that had not been subjected to the whipping._

_In truth, Lafayette had not really done anything to justify the beating, but Benedict had wanted to make a statement to George about just what Lafayette's current position was, the fact that Lafayette was at his complete and total mercy._

****************

**End Flashback**

****************

What made it even more pleasing for Benedict was the conversation that he and George had had about the price for Lafayette's freedom. Of course, he **had** planned all of this knowing that once George saw Lafayette being punished with a whip, there was very little that the man wouldn't pay to save him, especially when he had discovered that England would prefer to execute the Marquis de Lafayette.

************

**Flashback**

************

_Benedict was quite calm as he led George inside, bringing the general into his office. He had purposefully placed several soldiers in strategic areas, just in case George had grown angry enough about Lafayette's condition to attack him. After all, he had never before seen him truly angry before now._

_Sitting in the wooden chair behind his desk, he gestured for George to take a seat, pushing aside some papers on his desk to look directly at the man he had once **thought** was his friend. Clearly it had not been so, considering just **whom** Congress praised instead of himself. However, Benedict fully intended to turn this situation to his own advantage._

“ _I hope you realize what **trouble** this is for me,” Benedict advised George, his voice still calm and collected as he sat up straighter in his chair, leaning on his desk slightly._

“ _Trouble for **you**?” George countered, anger making his voice more heated than he intended for it to be, the older man claiming the chair he was offered and sitting in it abruptly. He personally believed that the one being troubled by this was **Lafayette** , not the man who had taken him prisoner._

“ _Of course it's trouble for **me** ,” Benedict replied instantly, a little pucker appearing on his forehead as a thoughtful expression crossed onto his face, the brown-haired man silently studying the man in front of him to guage his reaction. “After all, General Cornwallis and the others would have preferred his execution, rather than his being ransomed. I alone felt that his age meant that America should be allowed to pay a hefty price for his release, rather than something more **permanent**...”_

_Watching with pleasure as George paled even further at the implication, Benedict felt a flash of triumph, knowing that it would motivate him to do exactly as he wanted. After all, it had not been a lie. The other British generals had felt that the execution of the Marquis de Lafayette would keep France out of the war, though General Cornwallis had been intrigued by Benedict's plans for revenge and had given his permission for it._

“ _ **Why** do they want his death?” George didn't understand it, especially considering that Lafayette was not an American who had betrayed King George, renouncing his Britain citizenship in exchange for liberty and freedom. Even prisoners that had once been British subjects had not been executed and surely Lafayette would be no exception to that._

_Benedict tilted his head, turning in his seat to look out the window for a moment. “To make an example out of him for France,” he replied honestly, his eyes returning to George. “They feel that his death would serve as an example to **any** in France who would aid the American cause...”_

_George's eyes narrowed, the idea alone sparking renewed anger within him. “Yet you feel differently?” he commented, managing to keep his tone civil as he watched him closely. “What **price** is England demanding for Lafayette, Benedict?” He knew how greedy the man before him was, how he had demanded twenty thousand pounds from England to turn against the men he had once fought beside in battle._

_Benedict smiled, knowing that George's anger was growing, though he remained calm. After all, if George did **anything** to him, he'd never walk out of here alive. “What **price** is America willing to pay, George?” he softly asked, leaning back in his chair. “What is Lafayette's worth in the eyes of the Continental Congress? More to the point, what are **you** willing to offer?” _

****************

**End Flashback**

****************

To be continued


	16. Chapter 16.

**Title:** Where There Is A Flame

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the known Characters.

 **Warning:** This story has graphic sexual encounters and could be considered an Alternate Universe for the TV show Liberty Kids. My French phrases are translated on a free site online; I apologize in advance if they are not correct.

 **Genre:** AU, Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

 **Pairings:** George/Martha, George/Lafayette, James/Sarah

 

**Chapter 16.**

George Washington had reluctantly returned to Fort Washington, unable to forget the sight of Lafayette's bloody back and the demure way he had replied to Benedict. The fact that the teenager had not looked at him even once **frightened** George, though it was not an emotion he often felt.

There were only a few reasons George could think of for **why** Lafayette had virtually ignored his presence. He strongly suspected that Lafayette had been too afraid of what Benedict would do if he **did** look at him, which **would** explain why he had been so quiet when he had responded to the question. If that was the reason, then George feared Lafayette had been broken by Benedict.

It was already clear to him that Lafayette was not being treated like a prisoner **should** be, not with the brutal whipping he had been given. Such treatment was condoned by every nation, or so George **had** thought, up until he had seen his beloved Marquis' back. Those lashes would scar, especially with how deep they were.

However, the fact that England was allegedly pushing for Lafayette to be executed was **horrifying**. There was no reason for Benedict to lie about such a thing, especially considering how he had shown himself to be completely in charge of the camp and, more importantly, Benedict was in control of Lafayette and how the teenager was treated.

Knowing this, George wanted to get Lafayette away from Benedict as soon as possible.

The ransom demand had finally been addressed, though there was **no** way America could pay it. Even George himself could not, his own wealth not equal to the amount of money that Benedict was demanding.

************

**Flashback**

************

 _“What_ _**price** _ _is America willing to pay, George?” Benedict softly asked, leaning back in his chair with triumph in his eyes. “What is Lafayette's worth in the eyes of the Continental Congress? More to the point, what are_ _**you** _ _willing to offer?”_

 _“What do_ _**you** _ _want?” George countered sharply, seeing how pleased Benedict was with himself. There was no doubt in his mind that the brown-haired man was enjoying_ _**every** _ _moment of this, no doubt taking pleasure in how shaken he was over Lafayette's condition. “This is more about what_ _**you** _ _are wanting, Benedict, than what_ _**England** _ _wants. We both know that much...”_

 _“You always were an **intelligent** man, George,” Benedict replied, still fully relaxed as he smiled at George, indifferent to the fact that they were discussing something so serious. “What do _ _**I** _ _want? The same things as I have_ _**always** _ _wanted, no more, no less.”_

 _“Money and power, Benedict?” George knew just how ambitious the man in front of him was, considering how personally he had taken everything that had happened or, more correctly, everything that had_ _**not** _ _happened in regards to him being promoted._

 _Benedict laughed, seeing the caution in George's eyes, knowing that he was_ _**desperate** _ _to save Lafayette. “Power among the colonies interests me not,” he assured him, giving him a wider smile. “Money, however...”_

 _Completely unsurprised that Benedict was interested in money, George sat back in his own chair. “I never would have thought you'd use a_ _**helpless** _ _girl as a hostage, Benedict,” he admitted, remembering what he had been told by Sarah Philips, that Lafayette had traded himself for her._

 _“I wouldn't have if_ _**she** _ _hadn't come looking for_ _**me** _ _,” Benedict slyly replied, smirking at George. “Miss Philips sought me out in the battle, George. My focus was on capturing Lafayette, not dealing with a_ _**girl** _ _who has no place on a battlefield...”_

 _George went silent for a few moments, realizing the implications. Sarah Philips had been captured by Benedict because she had been_ _**foolish** _ _enough to go find him? It certainly explained why little Henri had been blaming her loudly enough for George's men to hear him. Lafayette certainly would have told the children to get themselves somewhere safe._

 _Unable to speak, George swallowed hard, his anger with Sarah Philips increasing. If she had not been so incredibly_ _**stupid** _ _, she would not have been taken prisoner by Benedict Arnold. If he hadn't been able to capture her, then Lafayette would not have been forced to surrender. Even if Benedict's target **had** been Lafayette, George truly believed that the Marquis wouldn't have been captured without Sarah's serious lack of judgment._

 _Benedict saw several different emotions on George's face, wondering if the older man even realized how clearly he was showing the emotions he felt. The anger and pain made his blue eyes grow darker and for the moment, Benedict was rather glad that it wasn't_ _**him** _ _that was the target for the renewed anger._

_Sarah Philips was certainly not as smart as she believed herself to be, with how she had come looking for him. Benedict would not have used her as a hostage if she had just stayed hidden safely with her two friends instead of running around the battlefield to find him. He had been looking for Lafayette when the girl had found him, yelling at him for turning against the American cause and betraying her. He had tried to ignore her, but she had been relentless, repeatedly getting in front of him as he continued to search._

_“Benedict,_ _**what** _ _do you_ _**want** _ _for Lafayette's freedom?” George refused to think on Sarah's actions any longer for the moment, his strongest concern being that he secure Lafayette's safety first and foremost. “I know you want money, but how much?”_

_Pretending to think about it for several moments, Benedict smiled, fully relaxed within his chair as he looked at George. “Since England paid me twenty thousand pounds to join their side,” he replied calmly, “then I think it only fair that America pays me at least five times that amount. After all, I went against the other generals to keep Lafayette alive **and** against the King of England, George...”_

_George's eyes widened as he listened, unable to believe what he was hearing. There was_ _**no** _ _way that America could pay such a large amount of money; they couldn't even keep their own soldiers fed and clothed. Even_ _**he** _ _could not pay such an amount easily. Most of his assets were tied up in_ _**things** _ _and_ _**slaves** _ _, not in cash. And considering the current state of the currency in America, George was not sure that he could even get the amount by selling them._

 _The knowing look in Benedict's eyes told him that he_ _**knew** _ _such an outrageous demand could not be paid. Barely holding onto his temper, forcing himself to keep from lunging at Benedict across the desk, George stood abruptly, not even caring when his wooden chair fell over from the force he rose with. It was all too clear to him that Benedict had no intention of allowing Lafayette to be ransomed. There was no point in continuing this discussion for now, George knew, feeling his heart breaking silently._

_He had failed his sweet, beloved Marquis._

****************

**End Flashback**

_****************_

George had written several letters since his return to Fort Washington, not knowing what to do. Every moment he sat here was another moment that Lafayette could be getting **punished**. Benedict had made it clear that he would show the teenager no mercy.

He had written to his wife first, telling her **everything**. He trusted her discretion, knowing that she would not share what he told her with anyone else. Martha had the right to know and she was the only one he could share the depth of his grief and pain with. She was the only one who knew the truth about his feelings for Lafayette and he **knew** she would be just as devastated as him, especially considering the brutality of the whipping that Lafayette had been given.

Secondly, George wrote to the Continental Congress, advising them of what Benedict was demanding in exchange for Lafayette's safety. He didn't bother mentioning that Benedict had had the Marquis whipped, knowing that the amount would prevent them from being able to do anything. There was no point in making things worse by telling them how he feared from Lafayette.

Since George knew very little of Lafayette's wife, he instead wrote to Benjamin Franklin, sending the letter to France with all haste. Telling him about his meeting with Benedict and the fact that Lafayette was not being treated as a prisoner should be, with dignity and respect, the blue-eyed man hoped that he would be able to help. He also hinted that England wished for the teenager to be dealt with **permanently** , freely admitting that the price Benedict wanted was something that America could not pay, nor could he pay it himself.

Surely Benjamin Franklin would be able to get France to help save Lafayette's life?

************

Lafayette was back inside now, laying upon the bed once more. This time, however, the lean teenager was upon his stomach, his back being too painful for him to lay on now, and he cringed slightly, feeling the wet, cool cloth that Benedict was cleaning him with.

Despite the fact that it **did** soothe the painful lacerations, Lafayette did **not** want to be touched by Benedict in **any** way, his eyes closed as he trembled each time the cloth was used, brushing gently along his bloody back. His wrists had not been tied again yet, which was a small mercy.

Benedict continued what he was doing, ignoring the obvious signs of distress from Lafayette as he tended to his back. The trickles of blood continued, no matter how many times he wiped them away. Perhaps he had let the whipping go too far? After all, he didn't want him to be scarred permanently. It would be such a pity to leave something like that on his soft, pale skin.

The amount of agony that Lafayette was in, there was no way that the teenager would be attempting an escape anytime soon. As such, Benedict felt safe in leaving his wrists free for the moment, though he would bind him again before they went to sleep.

“Do you want something for the pain, Lafayette?” Benedict questioned quietly, sincerely concerned as he inspected the swollen cuts. Yes, the soldiers had definitely taken it beyond what he had wanted. The damage would take **days** to heal, most likely **weeks** , and that was if Lafayette didn't develop an infection.

Stilling at the question, Lafayette wondered if it was some sort of trick, his gray eyes dark with a mixture of pain and sadness. He wished he had at least looked at George, no matter how he would have been punished for it. It was the first time in so long that he had been so close to his beloved General and he had been too ashamed to look at him. He had heard the door to the building slam shut when George had exited, telling him without words that he was furious.

Lafayette was certain that Benedict had **no** intention of letting him be ransomed. Having already been told of what the brown-haired man had planned for him once England won the war, there was no way that his captor would ever **willingly** let him go. Lafayette knew in his heart that George had learned the same thing, the teenager helplessly wondering what Benedict had demanded for his release during his pretense of negotiating the ransom demand.

If he could speak to George right now, Lafayette would tell him just how much he loved him, making him promise to stay strong, no matter what happened to him. Lafayette had known that he was entering a war when he came to America, prepared to lay down his life for the cause of liberty and freedom. He had not expected to fall in love with George Washington, to have those feelings returned, nor for their relationship to be blessed by Martha Washington. Even though they had only kissed, Lafayette knew that he would always love George. **Nothing** that Benedict could do would ever change that, even if what Benedict had done changed George's feelings towards him.

“Lafayette?” Benedict repeated, having expected **some** sort of response from the teenager in response to his question. Wondering what was keeping him from saying anything, he deliberately ran a finger along one of the cuts, his blue eyes focused upon the boy when he whimpered.

A single tear escaped to run down Lafayette's cheek at the touch to his back, a helpless sound of pain leaving him as he looked at his captor. “Please,” he softly replied, hoping that the offer was genuine and not a cruel trick.

Reaching out slowly, Benedict wiped the tear away silently, studying Lafayette for a moment before he nodded in silent agreement. It would be **such** a pity if this scarred his lovely skin, after all.

To be continued


	17. Chapter 17.

**Title:** Where There Is A Flame

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the known Characters.

 **Warning:** This story has graphic sexual encounters and could be considered an Alternate Universe for the TV show Liberty Kids. My French phrases are translated on a free site online; I apologize in advance if they are not correct. I know nothing of Lafayette's relationship with his wife, only that they were truly in love. I do know that the strain between his father-in-law and Lafayette was genuine; his personal request to King Louis XVI was the reason that the King of France did not allow Lafayette and the other soldiers to originally be sent to America, prompting Lafayette to buy the ship himself and go there without permission.

 **Genre:** AU, Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

 **Pairings:** George/Martha, George/Lafayette, James/Sarah

 

**Chapter 17.**

Marie Adrienne Françoise Lafayette considered herself a patient woman, though she was finding herself at quite a crossroads. Her husband, despite having the best of intentions, had left her and gone to fight in a war in America against the express orders of their King.

She loved him, she really did, but Gilbert had left her in quite a predicament in France. Despite only being seventeen, Marie was not foolish enough to expect that there would be no repercussions for how he had so defiantly defied King Louis XVI. The people of Versailles adored her husband, the stories of his victories in battle against England being toasted and celebrated with many, many parties.

Their praise and love for Gilbert meant **nothing** if he was branded as a traitor to his king and homeland, however. Sitting by herself, she could hear her parents talking, knowing they were talking about him again and what they should do if he did not return.

Many, many letters had come to her from her husband since he had arrived in America, though Marie had not written back to him. She felt abandoned and alone, remaining here to raise their daughters by herself, even though she had **chosen** not to go with him. He had asked her to go with him, though she had been too afraid.

Her father was so angry that he had initially wanted her to end her marriage, claiming that she had been deserted by Gilbert. He believed that her husband had no intention of returning from America, even after the war was over. If that was true, then Marie did not know what she would do.

Part of her blamed her father for this, knowing the role he had attempted to force upon Gilbert. He had not wanted it, had protested against it from the very beginning. In her heart, Marie understood why he wanted no part of her father's plans, even if it would have greatly raised her social standing.

The other part of her resented Gilbert for leaving her like this, her future uncertain. How could he stay away from her and their children for so long? Every time he went into battle he risked his **life**! Couldn't he be satisfied with the aid he had given the Americans and return home?

His letters had slowed down considerably since the first few months that Gilbert had been in America, though she never considered that it might be due to the fact that she had not written back. Instead, Marie believed that he had forgotten that his home was **here** , with **her**.

Her father had informed her just hours ago that her husband was a prisoner of England, making her fear for **her** future and for her children. If Gilbert died before she bore him a son, his titles, land, and money would return to **his** family, leaving **her** penniless with no way to provide for their daughters. What would happen to them **then**?

***********

Benjamin Franklin reread the letter from George Washington a third time, scarcely able to believe the words upon the paper, though he knew it had to be true. He never would have thought that Benedict Arnold would **do** such a thing, that he would be essentially torturing the Marquis de Lafayette while the teenager was his prisoner.

Without the commander of the Confederate Army saying so, Ben could see that General Washington was deeply concerned, afraid that England would have Lafayette executed if something wasn't done **quickly**. Unfortunately, Ben had to agree with him that America could not afford such a large ransom.

It did not surprise him at all that George **would** have paid the ransom if he **could** have, for even here in France, Ben had heard of how fond the general was of the young man. Reading in detail about the horrific whipping, he could only imagine how it had affected their commander, especially when he had not been able to save Lafayette, to free him from the man who held him against as will.

Hopefully, George would be able to find the strength to continue fighting, even without Lafayette at his side. The war was taking its toll on everyone and while the Confederate Army continued their struggles in America, Ben had his own uphill battle to fight.

He absolutely agreed that if Lafayette were not ransomed quickly, then England would execute him just to strike a blow to the morale of the Americans, to scare the French into remaining out of the war. Knowing this, Ben prayed hard that the teenager could hold on.

Perhaps he should go see his family? Lafayette **was** a Marquis, after all, and **extremely** wealthy. Surely they would send the ransom money if King Louis XVI would not, though Ben could not see him allowing England to execute a French nobleman, whether or not Lafayette had had his permission to go to America in the first place.

***********

The Comte de Vergennes was in a bit of a panic now, having heard the shocking news that England wanted to execute the Marquis de Lafayette, for his death to serve as an example as to **why** France should not get involved. Such a thing was unthinkable, **unimaginable**!

Lafayette was so dearly beloved here in France that if their king allowed him to be executed, it could spark a revolution. He had spoken of the teenager's capture frequently with King Louis XVI, having come to understand **why** he had left so suddenly.

Jean-Paul-François de Noailles, the Duc d'Ayen, was being watched carefully for any signs of treason. Lafayette had implied that his wife's father was involved in the plots that his mother and **her** grandfather had been, after all. There was no reason for him to lie about it, for even though Lafayette had not always agreed with his king, he had always been loyal.

King Louis XVI had agreed that it was best for the Marquis to remain in America, until the treachery in France was dealt with. The threat to Lafayette's life, however, could not be ignored. The Comte de Vergennes knew that whatever price England's demand had been, America would not be able to pay it. He had spoken about this once with Benjamin Franklin, though the genius had admitted that even he did not know what England **wanted** for Lafayette.

With that being the case, the French foreign minister had sent spies to America in the hopes of finding out what England was planning to do, receiving his letters from them around the same time that General Washington's letter arrived for Benjamin Franklin, though the Comte de Vergennes did not know it. Though an amount had not been named, the reports of how angry George Washington had been had told him plenty. There was also a rumor that the man would have paid the ransom himself, if he had had the money to do so.

It was time for him to call on Benjamin Franklin again, the Comte de Vergennes decided. He was certain that the brilliant scientist would know by now the exact amount that England wanted for Lafayette, something that he had not been to find out. Whatever it was, the Comte de Vergennes knew that King Louis XVI would pay it.

What other choice did he have, after all?

***********

Martha wept by herself, sitting on the bed she shared with George when he was home, the letter she had received laying upon the nearby table. How could Benedict do something so **awful** to dear, sweet Lafayette? She could barely believe that a man who had fought to hard for their cause could **whip** someone he had fought with, let alone speak about his potential execution.

Mistreating a captive was downright **disgraceful** , never mind that it went against the rules for war. All prisoners were supposed to be treated with respect and dignity, even those that were eventually executed. The detailed words written in George's shaking hand told her that what he had seen had horrified her husband.

Her fears echoed George's, that Lafayette had been broken somehow by Benedict Arnold. That sweet smile that the teenager had shone her, the innocent way he had played with her children...

Even though he was a general in this war, Martha had so **hoped** for him to stay the same, to not lose that **precious** part of himself to the cruelty of war. She had never imagined it would be beaten out of him by someone that George had considered a friend.

She had learned a great deal of just **why** Benedict had abducted Lafayette, angry with the girl who had indirectly been responsible for this. Where was her chaperone in all of this? It was not proper for a girl to be on the battlefield, after all, reporter or **not** , though Martha was far more concerned about the fact that England appeared to want Lafayette to be executed.

Such a thing could **never** be allowed to happen, yet she knew that George was right. Even if they sold everything that they had, they could not pay the full amount that Benedict had demanded. One hundred thousand pounds was a fortune, after all. Knowing this, Martha believed that George was correct; Benedict had no intention of allowing Lafayette's freedom to be bought.

The entire thing had been for show, for Benedict to torture George with the knowledge that he could do **anything** he wanted to Lafayette and there was nothing George could do about it for the moment. Why else would he deliberately let George see Lafayette being whipped? It was such a cruel thing for Benedict to do, to show George what he was allowing to happen to Lafayette under the pretense of it being a **punishment**.

A new thought struck Martha, then. It was done deliberately and she **knew** it, as did George. But how did Benedict know that it would essentially be like sticking a knife into her husband's heart to see such a thing? Was it possible that he somehow  **knew**?

To be continued


	18. Chapter 18.

**Title:** Where There Is A Flame

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the known Characters.

 **Warning:** This story has graphic sexual encounters and could be considered an Alternate Universe for the TV show Liberty Kids. My French phrases are translated on a free site online; I apologize in advance if they are not correct. Please see the note below this chapter, as I did not wish to cause any spoilers until after the chapter is read.

 **Genre:** AU, Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

 **Pairings:** George/Martha, George/Lafayette, James/Sarah

  


**Chapter 18.**

Colonel Wilhelm von Gall considered himself to be an honorable and fair man, admiring the courageous spirit of the Americans and their desire to be free of British rule even while he fought against them in battle. When he had first arrived here with the soldiers he commanded, all of them coming from the same part of Germany, he had seen this as a hopeless war that America could never win.

After all, England and Germany both had professional soldiers and plenty of men, supplies, and money to keep the war going on for years. Yet despite their lack of essential things such as food for their soldiers, the Americans had persevered, reluctantly gaining his admiration despite the fact that he was fighting against them.

Therefore, what he saw happening in this English fort hurt Wilhelm's pride.

The prisoner that General Arnold had brought here was once more being subjected to a vicious whipping, the young man bound to the stake yet **again** as Benedict Arnold whipped him, the anger in the brown-haired man apparent to all as they watched silently. The rain and wind were not helping at all, and each time the teenager cried out, the German colonel gritted his teeth, forcing himself to remain silent.

He would have loved to take the whip, letting the man he held nothing but contempt for be subjected to what he was **doing**. There was no honor in this, no justification for treating a prisoner so horribly. But Colonel Wilhelm's hands were currently tied as tightly as the hands of Benedict's captive, for his own rank was not equal to the Major General's rank.

For the moment, he had done all he could, writing to his own commanding officer, General John Burgoyne, and advising him of the **severe** brutality that the French prisoner was being subjected to by General Benedict Arnold. John was also a man of virtue and fairness, so Wilhelm knew he would like this about as much as he himself did, which was **not** at all.

Wilhelm had also told John about what was happening at night in the barracks, of what Benedict Arnold was doing to the young man in his **bed** . He had **suspected** it, of course, but two men in his regiment had **seen** it, that Benedict Arnold was forcing sexual acts upon the Marquis de Lafayette.

The teenager's current status was a bit problematic, because he was **not** an American, being a French nobleman, but France was not officially at war with England and, by extension, nor were they at war with Germany. Therefore, this level of... **punishment** was not in any way, shape, or form **acceptable**.

Hopefully, John would get here soon. Wilhelm did not know how much more he could bear to watch before he grabbed that whip and used it against Benedict. His men were of the same opinion as him, that Benedict Arnold was breaking the rules of how a prisoner of war should be treated. The men in his command that the Americans had captured periodically had **never** had this done to them, being treated decently until they were ransomed or exchanged for American prisoners.

The food had not been good, but **no** German prisoner had ever been beaten until the point that their backs **dripped** with blood to this extent. Even with the rain, there should not be so much of it, Wilhelm thought to himself, flinching again, then forcing himself to look away before he did something that he could not undo. He was a coward, Wilhelm told himself mentally, to stand by and do nothing.

*********

Benedict Arnold was **irate** , whipping Lafayette over and over, his chest heaving as he breathed hard, the blue in his eyes a very dark shade as he glared down at the bloody, half conscious teenager laying against the wooden post weakly. How **dare** he call for George Washington in his sleep, when it was **his** arms and bed that Lafayette currently slept in?

He had barely held his temper long enough to get them both dressed, cutting the rope binding Lafayette to the headboard without hesitation. His early concern gone in the wake of his burning anger, Benedict sought only to make Lafayette pay for his slight.

************

**Flashback**

************

_Lafayette was asleep within Benedict's embrace, the muscular arms wound around his lean waist and holding him against the brown-haired man's bare chest. He was not feeling very well, his back still burning, though it had not kept his captor from defiling his body again._

_Beads of sweat were present upon Lafayette's forehead, the teenager shivering every now and then with a rosy flush showing clearly on his cheeks. His sleep was fretful, a few whimpers and moans leaving him as he stirred, feeling so hot and not understanding why._

_Benedict shifted a little, waking despite the early hour when he felt how Lafayette was trembling against him. Still groggy and hearing the steady downpour of rain outside, his blue eyes focusing in on his prisoner slowly, Benedict frowned, feeling just how warm he was to the touch._

_Lafayette clearly had a fever, much to Benedict's dismay. Despite his best efforts, the lashes had become infected, swollen even more **now** than they had been when Lafayette was first whipped. Releasing him gently, Benedict looked over the slight, pathetic looking teenager that was still shivering._

_Reaching out to gently brush his hair back from Lafayette's face, Benedict was more concerned than he had expected to be, finding himself feeling something he did not often feel- **guilt**. Lafayette would not be in this condition if he had not wanted to shatter George Washington's stoic mask by letting him see his beloved Marquis broken._

_The whipping had been too much, Benedict told himself, regretting it as he heard the soft, labored breaths leaving Lafayette, the little whimpers escaping the rosy lips. “Lafayette?” he questioned softly, hoping the teenager was not delirious._

“ _Mmm...” Lafayette moaned, hearing someone speaking to him but not sure of who it was. He felt so tired, hot, and uncomfortable, wishing for water as he shivered again, completely helpless as he lay there, his wrists tied to the headboard still._

“ _ **Lafayette**?” Benedict didn't like the lack of response, his frown increasing as he tried to rouse the younger man. Tapping his flushed cheek with his hand, he attempted to get some sort of reply from Lafayette._

_Unfortunately, Lafayette could only hear that a **male** was talking to him, very confused and tired as he blinked open his gray eyes. Not recalling where he was or that he had even been captured, he whispered the name of the man he loved._

****************

**End Flashback**

_****************_

For the moment, however, Lafayette was barely breathing, having been promptly dragged out here for saying George's name. Before he even **realized** what was happening, he had been tethered to the pole, subjected to another beating that made his first whipping look tame.

No longer aware of what was happening around him, the thin teenager was completely pressed against the wooden post, the rain soaking him completely as he shivered, still feverish and unbearably cold. Whimpering as he was struck **again** , the last thing Lafayette saw was Benedict standing above him, holding the bloody whip before he lost his tentative grip on consciousness.

*********

Daniel Morgan paled drastically, watching the events unfolding in the English fort below, gazing through his spyglass in horror. Thank God that George was not here to see this, he thought, though it was difficult for him to watch Lafayette being beaten.

He did not notice the response of the German soldiers, the way that they could not watch the whipping as it went on for what seemed like **hours**. How much more could Lafayette take of this, Daniel wondered, his stomach in knots as he saw the teenager finally pass out.

There was no doubt in his mind that George would not like hearing that Lafayette was being punished again with a whip. If only there weren't so many English and German soldiers here, or he'd have stormed the fort even with the limited number of soldiers that he had here with him.

When George had asked him to come here and keep an eye on this place, Daniel had been hesitant initially. He knew of the ransom that Benedict had demanded, knowing it could never be paid by their new country. It was the genuine **fear** in George's blue eyes that had brought him here, to make certain that the traitor did not whisk Lafayette away somewhere that they would never find him again.

Until this moment, Daniel had seen nothing of the teenager, not until Benedict had dragged him out into the open, bound him to the post, and began whipping him without mercy. Knowing what he did of the Marquis, Daniel could not believe that Lafayette had done **anything** to deserve this, to be beaten until he lost consciousness.

*********

Benjamin Franklin was sitting alone in his room now, thinking over everything he had learned this morning from the Comte de Vergennes. In some ways, it explained things that he had not quite understood before, especially in the matter of why King Louis XVI had prevented the soldiers from coming to America.

For the moment, he was deeply relieved to hear that France would be paying the hundred thousand pounds to England for Lafayette's release, two letters from the Comte de Vergennes already on their way to two different Englishmen. After all, they could not take any chances that news of their willingness to pay Lafayette's ransom might go astray.

Additionally, the French Foreign Minister and Benjamin Franklin both knew that for whatever reason, Benedict Arnold did not want to let his prisoner go. Ben had admitted to Charles that Lafayette was been subjected to a vastly experience as an **English** prisoner of war than he would have had he been captured by the Germans. Therefore, it was imperative that both the King of England **and** the commander of the British army be informed that the price Benedict had set would be paid. Only then could it be assured that Benedict Arnold would, in fact, be ordered to release Lafayette once the money was paid.

Benjamin Franklin had been delighted to be able to write to Congress and George Washington, letting them know that France was prepared to give Benedict Arnold what he wanted in exchange for Lafayette. He did not tell them what he had learned of the Marquis just yet, still finding it a little shocking. He honestly was not certain how well it would be received in America, though for the moment, he was even more elated to be able to tell Congress that France was ready to join them in their fight against England. The reason for it was not what most would believe, for Ben had agreed to keep silent on the matter for the moment. Congress would find out soon enough, after all, but not before the French foreign minister's letters arrived to their two different destinations.

The first letter was sent to America, to General Cornwallis, advising him that France was ready to pay to secure the Marquis de Lafayette's release, if he would now settle on a date and time for the money to be handed over. He alone in America had the rank to force Benedict to allow Lafayette's freedom to be bought. It was all well and good if the King of England demanded him to do so, but he was not there to enforce the order. Benedict might well decide to execute Lafayette out of spite rather than allow his release.

The second letter from the Comte de Vergennes was addressed to King George III, advising him that the negotiation for Lafayette's ransom had been completed and tbat they were prepared to pay the money that Major General Benedict Arnold demanded, needing only the date and time that England wanted to be paid. Unlike the letter to the commanding officer of the British army, however, King George III was advised of something that he had overlooked, something that even General Cornwallis had not realized.

France would soon be officially entering the war on America's side, because of what Benedict Arnold had been allowed to do to Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, the Marquis de Lafayette, a rich French aristocrat **and** an heir to the throne of France.

To be continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Note: Lafayette being a member of the royal family and a potential heir to the throne of France is not historical fact, merely a figment of my imagination. Therefore, this is also non canon for Liberty Kids.


	19. Chapter 19.

**Title:** Where There Is A Flame

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the known Characters.

 **Warning:** This story has graphic sexual encounters and could be considered an Alternate Universe for the TV show Liberty Kids. My French phrases are translated on a free site online; I apologize in advance if they are not correct. Please see the author's notes and disclaimers below this chapter, as I did not wish to cause any spoilers for it until after it is read.

 **Genre:** AU, Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

 **Pairings:** George/Martha, George/Lafayette, James/Sarah

  


**Chapter 19.**

Sarah Philips was sitting alone in her bedroom at the print shop, silent tears running down her face. It had been **so** long since there had been any word of Lafayette or where he was, so it had truly horrified the fifteen-year-old to hear that Benedict Arnold was demanding so much money to release him.

Not blaming anyone but herself any longer for what had happened, Sarah had spent nearly every day since Lafayette's capture waiting to be confronted on her role in all of this, knowing it truly was **her** fault. Her parents had warned her many times on how impulsive she was, to **think** before she acted, yet she had not listened to them.

Sarah's long, red hair hung freely down her back as she sat in her bed, still wearing her white nightgown with the sheets pulled up to her lap. The bruise on her face had healed, though the scars on her heart and spirit were not so easily mended.

Every meal since that awful day, Sarah couldn't help wondering if Lafayette was even allowed to eat or if food was used as punishment for him, withheld when he said or did anything to displease his captor. She knew that General Washington had been the **only** one to see Lafayette since Benedict Arnold had agreed to start negotiating for the nineteen-year-old's release, though he had only told Congress of what the traitor wanted and little of Lafayette's condition.

For Sarah, that was almost as bad as hearing **nothing**. She knew without any adults telling her that America couldn't pay what Benedict wanted, and without the money, Lafayette would never be released. And until that happened, she couldn't tell him how sorry she was that she hadn't listened to him when he had told her, Henri, and James to stay hidden in the tent.

The guilt that she felt was only growing, the longer she waited for General Washington to come after her for what had happened to Lafayette. She was certain that he had to know by now. General Washington's sense of honor was as strong as Lafayette's own, after all.

Sarah was certain that he had confronted Benedict on using her as a hostage during their meeting, having no doubt that Benedict would have **told** General Washington of what she had done, of how she had confronted him. Shame made her face burn hot, as she looked down, her eyes glittering with tears.

Henri **still** refused to speak to her, vowing that if Gilbert was executed, then he **never** wanted to see her again. She couldn't blame him for blaming her, because she also blamed herself.

***********

Moses was very concerned, looking at the stairs that led up from the print shop towards the bedrooms on the second floor. Ever since the kids had been brought back from the battle where Lafayette had been caught, Sarah had been acting extremely different from the bright-eyed, opinionated girl he knew, hiding in her room almost all of the time.

Henri was sulking nearly as much, glaring at her whenever he so much as **saw** Sarah, even in passing. Then, more often than not, Henri would walk away, pretending not to hear her if she spoke to him. At first, a few tears had run down her face when it happened over and over, but now, she simply bowed her head and walking back upstairs, back to her room.

Whatever had happened, Moses was not entirely sure. He hadn't yet been able to put the pieces together since none of the children had told him. They had been there when the Marquis de Lafayette was taken prisoner and he did know that Benedict Arnold had taken Sarah as a hostage, but none of that explained how withdrawn she had become.

Without them telling him what **had** happened, though, he didn't know how to help Sarah. How could he fix this if they didn't talk to him? He considered them like family, like his own children, and it hurt him to see someone he saw as a daughter in so much pain.

***********

James Hiller sat outside the shop, a shadowed look in his blue eyes as he looked up, knowing that Sarah was in her room **again** , hiding from the world in the grief and shame she felt. Right now, he felt **completely** helpless and useless.

Henri would **never** make amends with Sarah until Lafayette was free, though he had been a prisoner for so long that James had wondered if the French teenager was even still alive. The fact that General Washington had confirmed that Lafayette had not been executed had been a relief, though the blond-haired journalist was by no means reassured that Lafayette would be ransomed anytime soon.

Until it happened, James also knew that Sarah would never forgive herself. He missed his best friends, torn between them right now. Henri was angry that he wasn't being harder on Sarah, though James honestly felt she was punishing herself enough without either of them adding to her misery.

The whole thing was complicated, after all.

Sarah should **never** have gone to confront Benedict Arnold; James would admit that freely. It certainly had not been the smartest thing she had ever done, especially in the middle of a battle. Had Henri not been with him, he would have gone after her and dragged her back into the tent, willing or not.

But he could not leave Henri alone, remaining hidden through the long battle that lasted so long, even though it seemed like **minutes**. It had been loud, exciting, and a little frightening, though James would never admit it. The sound of General Washington shouting orders had been of great relief to him, spurring him to go find Sarah and make sure she was all right.

Of course, James had never imagined that Benedict would have taken Sarah as a hostage, using her to capture Lafayette. The fact that the traitor had done so only proved that he was **truly** despicable.

Had James not worried about General Washington's reception of them, he would have gone to interview him about what he had seen in the English fort. As it was, he did not think that they would be welcomed right now, if ever again.

***********

Henri was in the ally near the print shop, kicking a small stone as he glared back towards the building, anger and sadness in his heart. After a few moments, his lower lip wobbled, as the small boy sank down, curling up against the brick wall. Tears welled up in his brown eyes, as he buried his face into his lap, crying softly for several moments.

He was scared, so **very** scared that Lafayette was going to be killed by the British.

Moses kept telling him to have faith, but Henri had **no** faith left! How could he, when weeks went by and his prayers were unanswered? Henri had prayed and prayed for Gilbert to be rescued and nothing had come of it.

This was **all** Sarah's fault, and he **knew** it. Gilbert had **told** them to stay hidden and instead of listening, she had gone to find Benedict Arnold, getting herself captured. And because of **her** being taken prisoner, Lafayette had been forced to trade himself for her.

What if he was killed by the English?

Henri had already lost his parents. He didn't want to lose Gilbert as well.

***********

King George III had been enjoying himself, about to leave on a hunting trip with a few noblemen when his prime minister hurried into the room, making his way over to him hurriedly, holding a letter in his trembling hand.

“Your majesty, I must speak with you immediately,” Lord North stated in a low voice, knowing the king would be irritated but this letter from France was great cause for alarm right now, his normally calm demeanor overshadowed by shock and trepidation.

Annoyance flashed briefly within the king's eyes, before he sighed, scowling a little. He did not want to spend today in meetings, after all. If only the so-called Americans would come to their senses and end this **ridiculous** war. They had no chance of winning, especially since the only nation that **might** aid them was still keeping neutral for the most part.

Beckoning Frederick North over to a quiet corner, King George III looked at him impatiently, hoping that this was **genuinely** important as he held his riding crop in his hand. If not, he was going to be **extremely** annoyed. This hunting trip had been planned weeks ago, after all, with a grand celebration this evening to celebrate once more on the capture of the rebellious French teenager, the Marquis de Lafayette.

Frederick swallowed hard, paling slightly before he looked his king directly in the eyes. “France is signing a treaty to join the fight with the Americans,” he whispered, his breathing unsteady.

“ **What**?” George hissed, barely managing to keep his voice low enough that no one else heard him. “ **Why**?” he demanded, unable to believe it was true. This couldn't be; why would they suddenly enter the war **now**? It made no sense, with England so obviously going to be the victor in the fight.

“Because...” Frederick hesitated for a moment, licking his suddenly dry lips. “Your majesty, did you condone Major General Arnold's actions towards the Marquis de Lafayette, to abuse him as **never** a prisoner taken by England has been before?”

The king had to think for a few moments, the capture having happened so long ago that he barely recalled any letters in regards to how the Marquis could be treated. “Perhaps, though I cannot recall at the moment,” he replied truthfully, though he did not understand **why** it should matter at this time. “What of it, Lord North? Lafayette betrayed his **own** king by going to America, did he not?”

Afraid that that would be the answer, Frederick North handed the letter to his king, a grave look in his eyes. “Your majesty, the Marquis de Lafayette is not merely a simple Marquis,” he breathed back, his voice a little shaky. “You authorized an **heir** to France to be tortured by **our** soldiers...”

The color of King George III's face drained as quickly as the riding crop fell from his hand, the king of England gaping wordlessly, realizing immediately the folly of what he had **allowed** to be done. Ignorance of the Marquis' true status was a poor excuse and he **knew** it.

To be continued


	20. Chapter 20.

**Title:** Where There Is A Flame

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the known Characters.

**Warning:** This story has graphic sexual encounters and could be considered an Alternate Universe for the TV show Liberty Kids. My French phrases are translated on a free site online; I apologize in advance if they are not correct.

**Genre:** AU, Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

**Pairings:** George/Martha, George/Lafayette, James/Sarah

 

**Chapter 20.**

General Cornwallis could be called many things, one of them being the fact that he was quite a coward when it came to certain matters. Having turned a rather blind eye as to the nature of Benedict Arnold's revenge against the Marquis de Lafayette, he was now facing the consequences of his **inaction**.

The letter from his majesty, King George III, had been **scathing** , to say the least. Who could have known that the French nobleman was more than he had appeared? The blame for what had happened had been laid upon **his** head, not upon Benedict Arnold.

Of course, Charles had no intention of being punished for what had befallen the teenage prisoner, having already sent a reply to the letter that he had received. Benedict Arnold was the one who had wanted to punish Lafayette, after all, and as it was **he** had orchestrated the entire thing, he should have known about Lafayette.

After all, Benedict Arnold had been a Major General for George Washington, just as the Marquis currently was. Having actually been in battles with the teenager, he had been in the best position to learn of Lafayette's secrets. How could the man have overlooked something like this?

Charles **could** not, **would** not allow this disaster to ruin his career. Of course, that was the least of his concern right now. If Lafayette died, France could rightfully demand his execution. Benedict Arnold was one of **his** Major Generals, after all.

It was better for him and the rest of England to blame all of this on the man who had planned it. Benedict Arnold was a traitor to the American cause, after all, so his name was already tarnished. Presenting it to the King that Benedict Arnold had taken his plans for revenge beyond what he, Charles Cornwallis, had agreed to... It was the only way for him to escape the blame.

Meanwhile, General Cornwallis was on his way to Benedict Arnold, intending to take Lafayette to his own fort. In addition to the shocking letter from his king, another had arrived from France, declaring their intention to pay Lafayette's ransom.

Knowing what he did of Benedict Arnold, Charles Cornwallis knew that he'd never willingly release Lafayette, not unless he was forced to do so. Therefore, he had to secure the teenager as **his** prisoner in order to ensure that nothing went wrong with trading him for the money Benedict had demanded.

Privately, the British commander also knew that this was the only way to keep Benedict from doing anything else to Lafayette. He had not forgotten what he had seen and heard the last time he had gone to check on how the plan for revenge was doing. Of course, had Lafayette been **only** a French nobleman as they had all believed, it wouldn't have mattered.

He cared not what Benedict chose to do to inflict proper punishment, after all, as long as it was **not** a royal he was torturing. Considering that Benedict had not known, General Cornwallis was **positive** that even General Washington remained ignorant of Lafayette's being an heir to France.

The man was a traitor to England but he was scarcely stupid. There was no way that he would have allowed Lafayette to fight in battle **knowing** that he was more than just a Marquis.

********

General John Burgoyne had expected Lafayette to be bruised and bloody, though the bloody, swollen welts that covered the French teenager proved to him that Colonel Wilhelm von Gall's letter had not been an exaggeration. If anything, Wilhelm had understated what he had told him of the things that he had seen Benedict Arnold doing to his prisoner.

Ignoring the brunette-haired male for the moment, John moved closer to the bed, gritting his teeth at the sight before him. Deeply flushed cheeks showed clearly as the teenager panted helplessly, gasping in air while remaining unresponsive to anything, even the sound of his name.

Sweat glistened on Lafayette's forehead, his lips parting with each pained breath he took, completely unaware of what was happening at this moment. He had only briefly consciousness since the whipping, his fever having increased to the point that he could do nothing but lay upon the bed.

Rage and disgust showed clearly in John Bergoyne's brown eyes as his surgeon checked over the **very** ill teenager. He was not certain that Lafayette would even recover from this, knowing that it could very well cost him his life. The lashes had remained untreated, the young man forced to remain bound to the stake for hours despite the rain, no doubt making him all the more ill.

“Get **out** ,” the German commander ordered, leaving no room for argument as he fixed his angry, seething glare upon Benedict Arnold. He'd done enough and John would be damned if he let him do anything else to Lafayette.

“This is **my** fort,” Benedict snapped back, wondering who in the world this man thought he was, to order **him** to leave. After all, General Cornwallis had said it was all right for him to use Lafayette in such a way. So what if the German didn't approve of it?

Narrowing his eyes at the retort, General Bergoyne pointedly looked out the window to the multitude of German soldiers that he had brought with him. They easily outnumbered Benedict's English troops and more than that, they were loyal only to **him**. “I outrank you, **Major** ,” he reminded the man coldly. “Per the current treaty between England and Germany, I have the same authority over **you** that General Cornwallis does. If you have a problem with obeying my orders, then **I** have the power to demote **you**.”

Anger made Benedict's eyes flash at the cold words, his lips pressing together tightly as he was once again reminded that he still did not have an **appropriate** rank. He knew his soldiers would stand with him, yet with the claim that the treaty gave the German commander the right to order him about... He was not certain if it was true or not.

“General Cornwallis **will** hear of this,” Benedict breathed back angrily, glaring at the younger German before he turned away, visibly shaking in his built up anger. He would write directly to **his** commander and request for him to punish this upstart, who dared to interfere with something that did not concern him.

General John Bergoyne was unconcerned with the threat, not even flinching when Benedict stormed out. After all, he had not lied. If General Cornwallis had a problem with his coming here to put a stop to what Benedict Arnold was doing, then the man had no honor or sense of common decency.

For the moment, he was much more concerned with Lafayette and his current condition, knowing that the teenager could very well die from this. **Why** had Benedict not brought a surgeon in when Lafayette had grown so feverish, his wounds oozing with infection?

Thank God that General von Gall had written that letter to him. Otherwise, John was certain that Lafayette would have died from this. Of course, he still might perish, though he hoped the auburn-haired teen still had the strength and heart to keep himself alive.  
 

To be continued


	21. Author's Note

This is just a quick note to reassure everyone that I will be continuing this story. Unfortunately, I was bitten by a brown recluse spider a few weeks ago and admitted into the hospital for several days. I'm still not feeling well yet and I am taking medicine because the bite wound has remained festered and is continuing to drain. As soon as I am fully recovered, I promise I will update this story, but right now, even typing hurts, especially since it was my dominate arm. I'm not even allowed to return to work yet at this point because of the pain and the swelling. Please don't give up on my story.


	22. Author's Note Update 2

New Update:

I am so, so sorry that my new chapter has not been uploaded; unfortunately, it's not finished yet. I am back working full time again and though my arm is still giving me a little trouble, it's much better than it used to be. I swear I must be overdue for some serious bad luck because four days after I began working again, my home was broken into and most of my things were stolen, from my computer, TV, and Blu-Ray player to my prescriptions. It happened while I was at work, thank goodness, but it took for what seemed like forever for the police to track down the guys who broke in. I consider it a miracle I got my laptop back, though I'm still out my other things as they had been pawned and sold.

Three windows were broken, along with the back door. I found out when the police came to my work, having been called by the neighbors. Because of what happened, I moved into a family condo with what little I had left (my bed and most of my kitchen items). Thank goodness for caring family, friends, and neighbors, because they helped me move so quickly.

I'll be honest, I don't know if the new chapter will be done before Christmas. I'll do my best. I'm picking up overtime at work so I can try to replace at least some of my stolen things like my microwave.


End file.
